User blog:Segalia/Segalia Riverstorm's Voyage

So, several people voted on a poll on my page for me to bring my fanfic over here. Well here it is. Enjoy!

Chapter 1
The ottermaid hefted the loaded sling in her paw. The weight was nice, comfortable. She raised it above her head and swung. Swish-wish-swish-swish, now! She released a strap and the stone flew.

Bam! It hit the tree to the left of her target. As she reloaded her sling she considered. It wasn’t the target, but it was close. Pretty good.

She was about to raise her sling and start twirling when she heard a rustling in the bushes.



She turned. The sound came from near her bow and quiver. She had dropped them to come practice slinging. The young otter felt her waist. She didn’t have her dagger either. Oh no! What should she do? She could sneak inconspicuously to her weapons until she could grab them and use them. Or she could use the sling. Since she wasn’t accurate, she would have to use it loaded.

The rustling suddenly stopped. The light brown maid turned quickly, moving closer to the bushes.

She saw a form. It could be a rat or a mouse or even a ferret, weasel or stoat. She edged closer when… Whoosh! She was tackled by a flying strong form from the opposite direction. She immediately kicked it off, when she hit the ground, with her strong hardened muscles. She swung her sling when she realized what the form was.

The Abbess sighed. A dibbun badger, very unusual, crawled on her lap. “Wot’is it, Mudder Abbess?”

Abbess Fern smiled wearily at the dibbun, Maben.

“Well nothing really. It’s just that it was such a bad harvest and winter is early and oh, I don’t know.” The young squirrel straightened up. “Well, we have to save as much possible from the harvest.”

She headed to the orchard. Maben shivered in the gust of cold wind that came through the door. Then he turned around and headed for the dormitories to his sleeping companions.

Outside the Abbess ran into a young hedgehog maid named Korla. “Oops, sorry ma’am. Di’nt realize youse was there.” She backed away towards the frosted fruit trees.

“It’s alright. Well, what are we doing down…”

She was cut off mid-sentence. The bell ringer, a hefty male otter ran up shouting. “Ma’am, there’s a big thing out dere, of a bunch o’ creatures. I can’t tell what dey are!”

Abbess Fern struggled to remain calm. “So it could be a band of vermin, or just a bunch of hungry hares or other woodlanders.”

“Well yes ma’am.” He let out a small chuckle of relief, “but you better come see anyways. You might 'ave sharper eyes den me.” He led her away to the wall. The harvesters kept salvaging what was left in the bare orchard.



The prone figure of an otter lay nearby. A squirrel emerged from the bushes.

“Segalia! What did you do to him?” The squirrelmaid hurried to his side.

The squirrel didn’t see the otter, Lijel, cautiously open one eye and glance around, then close it again.

Segalia moved her bow and quiver closer to her and put her dagger on her. She then put another stone in her sling and started swinging.

“Oh don’t worry, Ampanna. 'E’s just fakin’ it. 'E’ll be alright soon ‘nough.”

“Ok, whatever then. So how’s the slinging practice going?” The pale brown/gray squirrel turned to watch Segalia.

“It’s ok. I’m definitely no expert.” She proved her words, by accidentally letting go at the wrong time and sending it towards Lijel. “Oops! Hee hee.” She giggled.

“Hey! What’cha do that for!?” The dark brown otter jerked upright.

“See, he’s fine.” Segalia whispered to Ampanna. To Lijel she said, “It was an accident. Now, can you get up, or do we haf’ta carry ya?”

Groaning, he stood up and stretched. “Hey Segalia! You shoulda seen yo face. Youse was so scared! Hee hee hee”

“Yeah right, Lijel. Now why're you guys here at all?”

“Well, I wanted to come see you practice. Yore mom wants ye to come 'ome, and Lijel came h'along so we could ambush ya.” Ampanna hung out with the otters a lot and was picking up some of their speech.

“Okay then.” Segalia picked up all her stuff. “Race ya home!” She shot off, Lijel right behind her. Ampanna started running after her friends, back to the holt.

Chapter 2
-11 years ago-

A stoat shivered as cold winds blew around him into his ragged tent. He heard a call. Grumbling, he got to his feet. He forced himself out of the tent and over to another. “T’ain’t right! I shouldn’t hafta move in the middle of da snowstorm. What does he want now!?”

In a well furnished tent with plush pillows and chairs and even a fire, there sat Grovelum the Malevolent, a fox. He controlled a band of mixed vermin, sea and land, and he had a small family as well. His wife sat next to him holding his paw. The stoat entered.

“Ah, Captain Dir. Come in. Sit down.” Captain Dir found a pillow next to the fire and sat down.

“So why’d you call me here, Grovelum?” Grovelum ignored the informality and got right into it, speaking in his neat, proper voice.

“We need a kingdom. I have learned of many other vermin kings and queens who tried to take, the shore mountain,Salamandastron, or the abbey with red walls, Redwall I believe. They couldn’t and failed. But I have learned of another place: it is a grand inland lake, with an island. From there we could rule all of Mossflower Woods. As far as I know, no one lives there but some pikes who could help guard the lake. What do you think?”

The captain was a bit slow in taking this all in, “So, you don’t want the Sa-,Sal-, moun’ain,” Grovelum shook his head, “or da Wadrell place. And you want a lake?”

Grovelum sighed. Captain Dir stiffened. When Grovelum sighed you knew trouble was coming. “No, Dir. There is a big island on the lake, where we could rule. You would be second in command in all of Mossflower. My wife and I would be king and queen. You would have great power, or since you can’t understand that shall we demote you?!!” His voice suddenly rose.

“Nnno, I-I understand p-p-pperfectl-lly.” The stoat bowed so low, shaking, that his head fur was singed in the fire. He jerked upright nodding.

“Very well then. You are dismissed. We break camp in the morning.”

The fox turned to his wife then said something hard to hear. Dir left the tent. Grovelum’s wife, Oxos nodded and pointed in the direction of the corner. He went to the corner of the tent and picked up two baby foxes. They were a boy and girl and slumbered peacefully. He gently rocked them back and forth murmuring to them. He went and sat next to his wife who kissed his cheek. The fox family sat lovingly together midst the grand roaring storm.


 * Forward in time again**

Chapter 3
Ampanna raced into the camp, panting after her friends. They had entered and were leaning against some trees.

Ampanna came up to them, "Segalia, don't forget to talk to yore mom."

"Oh yeah." She straightened up from the tree and headed to the huts.

Ampanna and her mom lived with the otter holt. They set up huts made of grass and branches-secure and easy to put up. They were traveling, every few weeks, closer to Redwall Abbey.

Every week they had one big community dinner and the rest of the nights were at home.

Lijel usually hang out with other kids not Ampanna and Segalia.

Segalia exited from the huts. "Okay mom, see ya tonight!"

"Well, what shall we do, should we play a game, get otherbeasts together to play one, climb this here tree, or go swimming?"

"This tree!? This tree has no branches till ten feet up! How're we supposed to climb that?" Lijel exclaimed.

Segalia laughed, "We stand on yore head and shoulders, and stretch and jump..."

"And kill me in the process." Lijel mumbled.

Ampanna said "Swimming sounds good."

Lijel said, "Nah, I don't wanna swim. I think I'm gonna go."

Segalia and Ampanna fell in step wtih him, "Where?"

"Away from you two. Augh!" He took a step back and they followed.

"Stop it! He started chasing them and they ran laughing.



Grovelum, now a king, had accomplished his plan and conquered the island. There had been a few pathetic birds and rats but they had been thrown to the Teeth of the Deeps or submitted to his army. Some, though, he kept as farmers and collected some harvest each year. He didn't own slaves because he knew that that would be just leading to his destruction. His wife owned maids but they had a small pay. He had also taken a while traveling from the foothills of the Northern Mountains to the Great Inland Lake and also getting to the island through the Teeth of the Deeps and the ospreys.

He sat happily on his comfy padded chair that served as a throne. He had been ruling the island for, let's see, about nine years now. He, unlike most vermin lords, had patience, so he took his time asserting his power over the island. Soon he would start conquering Redwall Abbey from his island stronghold. His ears pricked at the sound of pattering footpaws and soon his daughter, closely followed by his son, appeared around the corner into the throne room.

"Hi dad!" shouted his thirteen-season old daughter, Selra, who was ducking and avoiding her brother, Riplar, who was flailing his wet arm at her. Riplar was about the same height as his sister and the same age. That was about all that was similar. Riplar was a black fox with green eyes. Selra was an orange/gray/red fox with brilliant blue eyes.

"Selra, Riplar, what is it? Selra, why is he trying to hit you?" Grovelum asked them patiently.



Riplar answered for his sister, "She!" he pointed a quivering paw at his sister, "Threw me in the lake and the Teeth of the Deep nearly ate me!"

He tried to tackle his sister who evaded him. "Why, Riplar, I'm surprised she caught you. How did she manage that?" He looked at his fighting kids with loving amusement in his eyes.

"She tricked me! She pushed me in after she tricked me into looking at a "sea monster"." Selra was laughing so hard she was nearly crying. She doubled over with laughter, enabling Riplar to tackle her, sending her crashing to the stone floor. She laughed breathlessly. Grovelum was just rising out of his seat, when in gracefully floated his wife, Oxos. She, a blue/gray speckled fox, separated the quarreling cubs. She scolded them, though not severely. Soon the cubs scampered off again.

Oxos strode up to her husband. They talked of business and other random things. All in all, it was a peaceful lighthearted environment.

Abbess Fern looked out from the battlements to the "form". She frowned slightly and the bellringer, Wraltor looked at her anxiously.

"What is it? Can you tell? I 'ope it's not vermin. I don't be good at battling vermin. Don't wanna actually kill a beast." He started rambling. Abbess Fern's tail suddenly stood straight up. Wraltor looked nervously at her and she broke out in a laugh.

"It's nobeast bad; it's just the Guosim. Let them in." She started scurrying down the steps. Wraltor raced after her, nearly setting the young squirrel off her footpaws. As soon as she was in hearing distance of the salvaging group, she started barking out orders.

"Who's the fastest beast here?" A small squirrel shot up her paw at the same time as a young mole shot up his.

"Go and tell the chefs and Sister Paldra to prepare a feast. Guosim are coming!"

"Race ya!" the squirrelmaid shot off quickly followed by the mole who moved surprisingly fast. That taken care of, Fern cast an eye over the orchards. "That's good for now. Bring it in to the kitchens and somebeast arrange the Dibbuns into some presentable order."

Wraltor creaked the gates open and soon short, spiky furred creatures poured in. A very long-snouted shrew came up to the Abbess and saluted.

"Hello! I am Log-a-log Lior. We Guosim came here to bring you this here beast," Some shrews shoved forward a brown beast. It was hard to tell what it was. He was so covered with scabbards, daggers, vambraces, stilletos and swords that you could scarcely see his tattered tunic underneath. On his back there was a bow and a quiver as well. There were spikes embedded in his tail. He was strong looking and the five shrews could barely hold him.

"Well, who are you?" Abbess Fern's voice quivered a bit as she spoke, but she stood strong.

"I...I be's an otter! But these 'ere beasts can't tell th'difference 'tween friend and foe and captured me." The beast growled at the shrews.

"Log-a-log Lior!" Fern reprimanded. "Why did you capture him?"

"Look, could you tell 'e was an otter when you first laid eye on 'im?" He retorted.

"No, but that is no reason to capture him. Release him!" The shrews obeyed and Abbess Fern started questioning the otter.

"What is your name, otter, and how were you captured?"

"Me name be Silverfalcon Pikehawk. H'I was on me ship, the Daggerhawk, when these 'ere beasts boarded me ship, claimin' Ah was a vermin and overwhelmed me."

They continued talking as she led him gently into the Abbey.

Chapter 4
Segalia leaped and did a flip, landing in the water. Bubbles swirled around, tickling her and catching in her fur. As soon as her footpaws touched the floor of the river, she leapt into the air, twisting, and landed, hitting the water with her paw, making a big splash. She did this again and again, leaping and hitting. Finally she stopped and surveyed her surroundings.

She was in the River Moss, framed by tall trees. The holt had stopped here for just a bit of grub and rest. They had been traveling all morning and now the elders were deciding how to get across the River with the young'uns. The young'uns and the older kids had gone swimming in the river.

As Segalia surveyed the confusing, yet fun, scene, she spotted a good climbing tree. An idea flashed through her mind and she swam smoothly to the shore. The tree was a flamboyant, a rare tree in these parts. It was a very good climbing tree and had bright red flowers when in bloom. At the moment, it had beautiful green leaves. It had branches that were easily in reach.

Segalia pulled her dripping form out of the water onto the bank. She stole quietly to the tree and quickly clambered up it. She climbed up a ways then found a sturdy branch that stretched out over the river. She made sure there was no one directly underneath, then she jumped.

"Riverstorm!" She yelled cannonballing into the water. Ampanna was standing on the opposite bank tending to a young otter. Segalia plunged into the water creating a humongous splash. She whooped with joy while Ampanna shook herself madly, dripping wet.

Segalia emerged from the water and saw Ampanna soaking wet; as she was helping the elders she did not want to get wet. Segalia burst out laughing and so did Lijel.

"Sorry, Ampanna. I didn't mean to." Shw tried to apologize but then collapsed in a burst of giggles. Some of the other otters were laughing too. Soon the elders called them in. It was time to eat, then they were moving on.

Captain, now General Dir sighed contentedly and took another swig of grog. None of the crew had minded moving super slowly from the Northern Mountains. They liked the island where they had free roam. None of the soldiers complained. The fish was easy to catch, there was plenty of room, no need to fight and lots of food. General Dir remembered that snowy night when he had heard the plans to take over this island and then over Mossflower. Soon some of the soldiers would start wanting to fight. He would tell King Grovelum and then plans would commence to attack the Wedrall place or the mountain. At least so he hoped.

The strange otter had been given a hot supper and a bed in the dormitories. Abbess Fern pondered what he had told her. He had been raised by a Juska tribe. He had somehow escaped from them and made his way into Mossflower as a good unequaled warrior. When he was going around the Great Inland Lake with his ship, the Daggerhawk, he had spotted something very unsettling. The abandoned castle, from the time period of the Marlfoxes, was not abandoned any more. A fox family had taken over it. Apparently the warlord had a huge mixed army.

Abbess Fern knew that there was a possibility that he could easily take over Redwall Abbey if he wanted to, or Salamandastron for that matter. Their attack capabilities were limited so they should settle for defense; winter had come early and they had hardly anything from their orchard harvest. The pond was frozen so they was no fish and only water that was broken out and melted. Maybe they had a lot stored up in the Cellar.

She leaped to her feet. She would ask Cellarkeeper Jagjo how much was stored up. She walked efficiently across Cavern Hole and went down the steps into the cellar. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she heard scurrying and whispering. She spotted Maben in the light of a small, dusty window, being held up by some of his dibbun friends, trying to get into a barrel of dandelion fizz.

"Dibbuns!" her voice rang out sharply and clearly. The startled dibbuns crashed to the ground in a big heap. "What are you doing in here, alone, trying to steal precious drink?!"

"Sowwy Mudder Abbess." They said, heads bowed. Maben's shoulders started shaking. Abbess Fern started to think she was a bit too harsh and that Maben was crying. His companions were the molebabe and the squirrelmaid, as well as a baby hedgehog. The hedgehog had gotten stuck to the wooden barrel when they fell and she was stranded in the middle of the air. She had fallen on the back side of the barrel and though the abbess couldn't see her, her friends could. She was Korla's little sister and they were the Cellarkeeper's daughters.

"Maben, are you crying?" The abbess asked sounding more tenderly. The other dibbuns started laughing as well, their whole bodies shaking. Soon great hiccuping laughter came.

"Why, what are you all laughing like that at? And where's Katya, isn't she normally with you?"

Finally the molebabe got enough breath back to explain to the squirrel abbess, who was getting madder by the second, in his quaint molebabe speech. "Well marm, you stoitled us gurtly and Katya fell and she'm be stoick to the bawwel, boi her spoikes."

"Oh." Her anger vanished quickly but not totally. She strode to the barrel and saw Katya. She was wriggling and wriggling but her "spoikes" were stuck firmly in. The abbess leaned down and gently, being careful to avoid her spikes, pulled her out. The dibbun sank wearily to the floor and straightened her blue dress.

"Thankee kindly, Mudder Abbess."

"Now, Maben, what mischief were you performing? Why were you stealing from the Cellars?" She crossed her arms and stared at Maben, tapping her footpaw.

"Wewl, we's was thiwsty Mudder." He looked pleadingly up at her.

"You could have gone to the kitchens."

"Sista Paldwa chased us out."

"And why did she do that? Sister Paldra is a sensible head cook. She wouldn't chase you out for no reason."

"We...weren't doin' nuthin'." Maben stared at the floor, scuffing his footpaws.

She turned her gaze towards the squirrelmaid, the molebabe and Katya. Katya bent wearily under the pressure. "We's was steawing pies from de windowsill. Den when we came for a dwink, she said no. So Maben said we should come here for a dwink. Jagjo was teachin' Korwa about bein' Cewwarhog, den dey weft, so we came to get a dwink."

"Okay, Katya, you can go. So can you two" She motioned to the mole and squirrel babes who slunk after Katya. Maben started to slink after them when Abbess Fern stopped him.

"You stay. I think I'll put you on Abbot's Report."

"Bud why, Mudder Abbess? I was just 'ungwy and tirsty and Sista Padwa was bein' mean! Dat's an unfair weason te put me on weport!" He cried indignantly.

Abbess Fern was firm. There was an early winter, an enemy coming, hardly any supplies and this dibbun thought he could get away with stealing supplies. She grabbed him and they left the Cellars.

Chapter 5
The youngest otters were getting tired of being in the wagons that carried them, the weak, the old and the supplies. Bickering started.

"Don't touch me!"

"I din't! I was h'over 'ere!" The accused squealed indignantly.

"Then who could h'it 'ave been?! Yore the cwosest one!"

"It was Ema! She touched ye wiv dat stick!"

The angry young'un, who was nearly old enough to walk instead of ride, was sick of the other infants and turned on Ema. "Why'd ye 'it me!"

The simpering Ema fluttered her eyelashes innocently. "'it ye? Why would Ah want to do dat?"

"Then," Danuk, the oldest, was nearly boiling now, "who was it?!"

Ema shrugged. "H'I don't know, maybe it was Lijel."

Danuk shrank at the prospect. Lijel was a bigger boy. What would happen if he accused him? Plus who cared about being touched with a stick. He lay back against some sacks and crossed his arms.

Lijel heard the whole argument and grinned. Spying Segalia, he ran up to her.

"Remember when we used to fight like that?"

She turned to him, a questioning look, though smiling, on her face. "Used to? What'er you talking about? We still do. Ye're still the same annoying kid ye were when ye were that age." She gestured vaguely at the wagon, pulled alternatingly by grownups and the older kids.

"Annoying?! I'll show you annoying!" He took a gourd from a pouch around his waist and sprayed water at her. Shouting, she ducked and charged him.





Oxos came into the room that was used for clothes: the making of, the washing of and the drying of. She sighed. Half of the clothes that she had sent in this morning were not done.

"MAIDS!" She yelled. It echoed through the dusty halls and soon a flurry of paws could be heard. The last one there would have to do the job, and if they didn't do it well...they shuddered to think of it. Nails scraped against the stone ramps that were everywhere in the castle and shoving commenced as the ragged maids forced their way to the clothes room.

They gathered themselves into a semblance of a line and saluted. A few others straggled in. Oxos counted carefully. Two were missing. More patting was heard and then a bird of prey flew past a vole, who consequently tripped and somersaulted to the queen's feet.

The unfortunate vole, named Lavinia, crouched, in a threadbare blue tunic, at the pedicured footpaws. One of the footpaws started tapping up and down.

Finally Oxos spoke. “Well I would say that,” she took a look at her nails on her paw, “that you, what’s your name? Oh yes, Lavender or something. Well, I would guess that you are the maid to do my duty. You may go,“ she gestured with her pink manicured paws at the other maids then turned back to Lavinia.

“Next time you land on my feet and enter that ungracefully again, I’ll have you whipped forty times. Now,” the vole had started shaking all over; she bit her tongue hard to stop from crying out. “You have been called here to do the laundry which should have been done when it was taken this morning. Do it well...or else!” The queen’s voice escalated until it ended in a screech. Calming herself, she turned to leave. “Oh and one last thing, if it’s not done in say around thirty-two minutes, I’ll have you flogged anyways.” With that she left Lavinia to the task of washing, drying and folding the humungous pile of laundry.



Abbess Fern had elected a Council that helped with different dealings. She decided to kill two birds with one stone and discuss the war and Maben’s punishment. Sister Paldra (the head cook), Jagjo (the cellarhog) and several other Abbey members made up the council. The role of Skipper was filled by whichever holt was in the Abbey at the time. Soon the Weasprears would be here and their Skipper could help with war plans, if needed.

She went to Cavern Hole dragging Maben behind her. The rest of the council knew to meet her there and was already there. She sat Maben down next to the recorder, a female boxing hare named Howlia.

Howlia winked at the Dibbun, “Don’t move a blooming inch and ye’ll get a bally candied chestnut later. Would ye like that?”

Maben smiled. “H’I greatwy wike candy chesknutters.”

“Well if ye behave ye can get one, wot!” She said.

Maben tried to sit up as straight and serious as he could. Howlia nodded approvingly and got ready to record the meeting.

Abbess Fern observed this and smiled. She had a soft spot for the Dibbuns; she just had to be stern with them sometimes. She spoke in a voice that was full of commanding and kindness, a good combination for an Abbess. “We are gathered here today to discuss the punishment of a certain Dibbun,” She glared at Maben who smiled innocently at her, “and a warning we heard from a passing otter. First we should discuss the punishment so he won’t have to sit through the Council meeting.”

“What’d he do?” Howlia wanted to know.

“He was pinching pies from my kitchen!” cried the indignant mouse chef.

“And I hear ‘e was stealing me drinks.” Jagjo glared suspiciously at the badger babe.

“’E be a good Dibbun. Do nut be too hard on ‘im, burr.” said Goodwife Burna, a mole who was the infirmary keeper and took care of the Dibbuns.

Abbess Fern put up her paw for silence. “I’m not quite sure you understand the seriousness of the situation. The winter came early. We have barely any supplies. Silverfalcon Pikehawk came to tell us that there is a big vermin army waiting to seize Redwall Abbey. If they laid siege on us, we could scarcely defend ourselves, much less, survive the winter. This is no time to be stealing supplies.” She glared at Maben.

“Marm, ‘ow was ‘e supposed to bally know that? We didn’t even know that." Howlia pointed out. "You should let ‘im off lightly.”

“He shouldn’t be stealin’ in the first place.” Sister Paldra said.

“Well, yes ‘e should be punished for that, wot, but ‘e didn’t know there was a blooming shortage of the supplies.” The recorder defended him.

“Then,” the Abbess said the word with force, “We are all agreed that he should have a medium to light punishment. Any suggestions?”

Ideas rang out.

“Scrub all the pots and pans!”

“Clean the pond!”

Howlia raised her paw quietly. “How ‘bout we give a bath and early bedtime tonight and tomorrer ‘e can help me in the Gatehouse, sorting records?” There were grunts of agreement all around.

“Then that’s what we shall do. Maben, you are dismissed.” The squirrel leader waited as the Dibbun scampered off, unsure of what to think about his punishment. “Now about the war and possible threat. This is what I know…”

Chapter 6
A shimmering red dragonfly skimmed the River Moss, which was green from the reflection of nature. Gnarled oaks were framed by willowy birches, maples and acachias. Weeping willows spread long branches and shadowed the shrubbery, which was made up of nettles and wildflowers, standing side by side. Segalia sat in a canoe, with her paddle on her lap, resting in a slower part of the river. She thought back to the recent occurrences.

She had charged at Lijel and he had flown backwards, startled, right into the wagon. She had clapped a paw over her mouth in astonishment and decided to make herself scarce. An ottermum had started to make her way after her when a shout had stopped her.

“We’re ‘ere! We’ve reached th’olt!”

Cheers had risen all around. Finally the otters could revert to their natural habitat, the water. They had arrived at Skipper Rosethorn’s holt. She led the Aquafaura holt, a holt that typically stayed at a dock in the River Moss. Other holts could use their dock, like Segalia’s holt, the Weasprears. The Weasprears kept their ships and boats alike at the dock, like the ship that Segalia had helped to make and was practically her own, the Silver Falcon. The Aquafaura otters started running out to greet them. Having arrived, Segalia had quickly scouted about for her dad.

“Pa? Kin we ride the river in the Silver Falcon’s canoes?”

"Shure thing, ‘oney. Ye know what to do.”

A sudden bump, made of bumping into the bank and a sudden thrust from Ampanna, jolted Segalia back to the present.

“Lookit what yore doing, Seg!” Ampanna yelled from behind her. Segalia rolled her eyes and used her paddle to push off from the bank. Soon they were speeding along, with the aid of the current and their paddles. At another jolt, Segalia turned. There were Lijel and one of his good friends, Josham, in a canoe of their own.

“Wanna race?” They asked with big grins on their face.

Segalia turned to Ampanna. “I don’t h’even know why they ask. They know they’ll lose.”

“So sure ‘bout that?” Josham asked threateningly.

“Bring it.” Ampanna responded. With a shout and a splash, the race was on.



Screams echoed around the slanting ramps as the whip slashed across Lavinia’s scarred and tender back. She bit her lip to try to stop from releasing another scream. The whip cracked and fell back on her back again. A whimper escaped the clenched mouth and resonated in the ears of Grovelum who was out in the grounds.

“Dir!” he called out, ignoring the pained vole’s cries. The stoat commander strode majestically up, his black and purple cape flapping behind him.

“Yes, yore majestae?”

“Put your soldiers through some maneuvers. I want to see how good they are.” The stoat started leaving.

“Wait!” The king held up his paw. “Tell my…” He put his paw to his mouth in concentration. “My statistician to come to me.” He waved Dir away and was left to his thoughts.

Why did he want Redwall, when he had this nice big fortress here? So that he could control all the land from different strategic points and that would be one of them. But all the warlords failed miserably when they tried. The statistician had valuable information for him that could lead to success. How was he going to start his campaign? By sending scouts out and making the soldiers battle ready. But so many warlords went insane when they tried. He had a calm head and would not do that.

As he was having this mental battle, his statistician, a small female loyal wolverine came up, her long aqua-blue tunic floating about her thin form. She held in her arms, a big stack of papers, parchments, scrolls, books and various scribblings. She waited patiently for King Grovelum to notice her. She organized her thoughts and her stack. The fox turned to her. “So, my faithful Malrua, what do you have for me?”

She smiled, an evil glimmer in her eyes. “Ah think ye’ll like it. Ken we go someplace where dere’s a table?”

He nodded and turned on his footpaw, his dark blue cloak swirling about him. She trotted after him, explaining some of the information in her light Highlander accent. “Ah’ve got a wee bit about Salamandastron, and a couple maps of the area. Ah’ve got lots of maps of th’rest of Mossflower and Ah think ye’ll like this.” She held up a piece of paper. "It's the account of the Marlfox, yore wive's ancesta's, when they attacked Redwall. They managed to get in. 'N dis one is about two hordes dat got in, Badredd an' Raga Bol. Dis will 'elp us get in. The scouts kin fill in da rest." Now it was his turn to smile wickedly.

Segalia was glad to have finally arrived at the Abbey. Standing in the orchard she gazed at the big reddish building, graced by trees and walls. She looked around and spotted an otter that she didn’t recognize. She hadn’t been here in a few seasons so it was logical that she wouldn’t know everybeast. She decided to introduce herself to him. She walked over.

“Hi! I’m Segalia. Who’re you?”

The male otter looked to be bit older than her, was very tattoed and carried a lot of weapons. He turned towards her voice. “’I! H’I’m Silverfalcon.”

A sudden change came over Segalia’s face. “What’d you say yore name was?”

Now he was getting puzzled. He repeated himself slowly. “Silver...falcon…Pike...hawk.” Segalia was stunned. “Why?” He asked.

“You see, Ah ‘ave me a ship. H'It’s name is Silver Falcon as well.”

Now it was his jaw’s turn to drop open. “Seriously?”

“Yeah…Ah called h'it dat because Ah’ve always h’admired falcons. Ye know they’re so strong 'n' fierce…and Ah’ve always liked the color silver. So h’I named it the Silver Falcon. Why were ye named dat?”

“Well me parents saw dat h’I ‘ad dese silver wings on da back o’ me paws and dat h’I was brown like a falcon.”

Segalia nodded, understanding. Lijel bounded over.

“Who’s this?”

“Get this, ‘is name’s Silverfalcon!” Segalia exclaimed.

Lijel nodded thoughtfully. “Cool. 'ey, ‘ow’d ye get all those tattoos?”

Silverfalcon was starting to feel embarrassed and was happy to explain his unique tattoos. “See, when h’I was younger, me ‘olt was slain and h’I was captured by the Juskasie t’be their Taggurung.”

Lijel’s eyes widened. “Cool! Like Deyna?”

“Yeah, ‘e’s one o’ me ancestors, by the way.”

“Sweet! H’I don’t know iffen I got any cool ancestors like that.”

“Yeah. So why’re you two ‘ere?”

Segalia welcomed the chance to talk again. “ Our ‘olt, the Weasprears, comes ‘ere every few seasons. Oh and by the way, ‘is name is Lijel.” Silverfalcon nodded thoughtfully, when another otter ran up. To Segalia’s dismay it was another boy, not a girl. She decided she could still be friendly to him.

“Ahoy! Wot’s yore name?”

He tossed his head and the fur that had grown over his eyes. “I’m Wraltor, bellringer of the Abbey, at yore service.” He did a little bow then asked, “Who are you?”

“I’m Segalia Riverstorm of Holt Weasprear and this is Lijel.” Lijel was smiling at the newcomer. Two new boy otters in one day! Josham had departed somewhere, when he had spotted a pretty flirty otter named Galiram who resided at the Abbey. It would be nice to have new friends.

Chapter 7
A proud chickadee fluffed his new colorful feathers and twittered and trilled a few bars. Suddenly he stopped and peered down at an unusual sight. A young female badger, not very big, was walking fairly gracefully down the path through Mossflower Woods. Every once in a while she would stop and cut a herb with her knife and put it in her basket.

Carma (pronounced S-R-muh), as she was called, had lost her parents at a young age. They were not dead, maybe, but she had no idea where they were. She had been raised by her aunt and uncle with her cousins. Some of her cousins were alright, but the others were brats. Her guardians had grown tired of her and decided to let her go off on her own into the world. She was fine with that.

Up ahead the peace and quiet was abruptly shattered, when she heard a thin reedy voice cry out, “No! Please, don’t hurt me! I have no money! Please leave us alone!” Carma, curious though frightened, came cautiously towards the sound.

A harsh voice interrupted the cry, “Us? Oh ho ho, so dere’re more o’ ye?” “Oh no,” the thin stammering voice corrected, “There’s just me alone in this poor hut by the river. All alone.”

Carma peeked through some leaves to the source of the voices. A small group of vermin were bothering a poor young female vole. She was crying, or so it seemed, into a pair of thin bony hands. A pine marten, who seemed to be the leader and the owner of the other voice, was poking her in her ribs with his sword.

“Come, come now.” He snarled through a toothy smile, “Ah know ye got someting of worth on ye.” Carma looked at herself. What could she use to defend this poor vole? She only had a stiletto to defend herself with, and it was dull from cutting plants. It was all she had though and she would make the most of it. She took a deep breath, yelled and charged.

“Yaarrrgh! Rooosehiiip!” She didn’t think about what she was yelling, but just charged, waving her dagger. Half of the vermin, having had an occasional clash with a badger, ran, tripping over themselves.

“Fools! You mangy smelly scoundrels! You slack-gutted, mop-pawed foolish nuisances! Get back ‘ere!” The pine marten yelled angrily. “You’re the scouts of King Grovelum! You don’t run!”

Carma barely heard this and registered it for later. She did not feel like stabbing him in the back while he was turned, so instead she took the nearest ferret and in the way she knew best(cutting herbs), held him with one paw and chopped off his head. She stood, as if in a dream, watching his head roll slowly down his body, which in turn slumped to the ground, spurting blood everywhere.

The pine marten turned back, and saw the wild badger standing in a daze. This would be a perfect time to kill him…or her? As his sword went for her head, a spear shot in front of his face, blocking the thrust. Who could that be? He glanced wildly around then his eyes landed on the pathetic vole. She didn’t look pathetic any more, wildly brandishing a spear…that was aimed… for his heart. He was so shocked he had not time to react before he died. The rest of the vermin saw and ran.

The clang of sword on spear had been enough to dull the raw edges of Carma’s shock. She stared blearily at the volewife. The vole threw away the spear. “As you can see I took care of myself.”

Insulted, but not surprised Carma replied, “Yes I can tell by your shrieking and pleading earlier.” Her slightly incoherent words tripped over each other.

The vole ran her eyes over the young badger, noting the shock, age and weariness of long travel. Her heart softened. “Come, come. My name is Nottenc O’Chubbacutch. Come in.” She entered the den as if nothing had happened.

The badgermaid trudged after her, fighting shock and tiredness. She forgot to duck as she entered and nearly fell. Nottenc steadied her.

“You better lie down.” She said, steering her over to a rock couch, covered in moss. “I’ll make ye some soup.” The vole bustled happily around the small den preparing the food.

Carma was hunched over, shivering, reliving the gruesome fall of the head from body. Nottenc finished the soup and picked up a bottle and put some of the soup in it.

Half unconscious but still indignant Carma muttered, “I no need bottle.”

Nottenc chuckled. “No, but if you keep talking like that, you’ll sound like who it’s for.” She went over to a hidden alcove, after giving the badger a bowl, and pulled out a bin. She reached down and pulled out a baby vole. It started whimpering. She gave it the bottle and bounced up and down, whistling a tune.

Carma’s ears perked up and she stopped trembling as much. She ate some more soup and cheered up some more. “M-m-my mom used to sing that to me. How does it go again?” With pauses in between stanzas for repeats Nottenc sang,

Flee!

Fleefly!

 Fleeflyflow!

Vista!

Cumalaw, cumalaw, cumalaw vista!

Oh no, no, no not the vista.

Eeniemeaniedecimeanieooalawalameanieeeniemeaniedecimeanieooalawa!

Ababasquat now what a chow!

A beepbodiobobabodibo shh.

Carma had now recovered and she came over.

“So cute! What’s their name? Where’s the dad?”

Nottenc laughed. “So many questions! I assume you feel better. Her dad was taken by the same vermin as who just attacked me.” She frowned unhappily. “But anyway, what’s your name?”

“Oh Carma, ma’am.”

“Okay then, Carma meet Mumzillia O'Chubbacutch. Mumzy meet Carma.”

“Can I hold her?” Carma asked tentatively.

“Of course dearie!” She handed over the squirming babe to Carma.

As Carma rocked the volebabe back and forth she commented, “You know, yore one of the nicest voles I’ve ever met.”

“Well, did ever notice that vole is an anagram of love? I know, it’s surprising. Voles have a naturally stubborn attitude and some resist the notion of being love as much as possible.”

Carma grunted in agreement, remembering some of the voles she’d met on her travels.

“My name is an anagram of content. So I try to act like ‘content love’, though sometimes my vole side takes the better of me.” Nottenc chuckled. “So why is someone as young as yourself wandering around the woods alone?” Carma related her tale to the sleeping Mumzy and her mom as night fell.

(A/N:I did not make up the song, I learnt it at a camp)

(A/N: Credit to BJ, obviously, for Mumzillia O'Chubbacutch)

King Grovelum had surveyed, examined, pored over documents, analyzed details and finally decided with the aid of a small piece of paper he now had in his paw as he sat on his throne that doubled as a desk. It (the paper) came from a document called The Warlord Guide, What and What NOT To Do For the Aspiring Conqueror. Malrua had somehow dug it up somewhere, but it had been dreadfully burned so that all that was left was: Kill the Skipper, Log-a-log and all Squirrels, followed by the reasons.

He had decided that his soldiers (especially his snipers) were in good enough condition to try an attack. His scouts had informed him that there were lots of squirrels, the Skipper and the Log-a-log at Redwall (and a nasty volewife and badger out in the woods). Even if it failed he would hopefully have picked off a decent amount of squirrels and possibly the Log-a-log (what kind of name was that?) or the Skipper. It was basically a win-win situation. And besides, while they were doing that, some scouts could go check if the accounts were right in telling how you got past the gates.

“Dir!” His voice echoed through the island. His general marched up.

“Yes?”

“Prepare your soldiers, especially your sniping units.”

“Snipin’ units?”

“Yes, artillery, you know slingers, spearbeasts, archers etc. The whole bologna! Tell the cook to make supplies for a, say, a week or so for the unit. We leave at dawn.” With that, he put away the desk table, rose and went to inform his wife of the newest arrangements.

Dir stood there a few moments. Now that he understood, he could put his strategic mind to work. He mentally started picking the best “snipers”. Finally action. He went to the fairly spacious rooms (not just because the army was slightly small) for the archers first.

“Rongear, Niceun, and um, yes you, wot’s yore name ‘gain?”

The small wiry weasel he pointed at, stood and stretched. “Ungbar’s me name, shootin’s me game, and h’am I glad t’get back t’fightin’!”

“Yeah! Yay! Aye!” The other chosen agreed heartily while the ones not chosen grumbled jealously.

“’O ever said we was fightin’?” Dir barked. The clamor died down with puzzled looks. Dir stood with his paws on his hips, stern. Then he cackled and grinned toothily. “We leave fo’ Redwall at dawn! We’ll be shootin’ down sum Abbeybeasts!”

The shouts resumed with all force, along with slapping each other on the backs and high-fiving.

Dir smirked in agreement and went to the next hut.

(A/N: Credit to User:Hyena42 for the guide)

It was a few days later and Paldra hummed as she moseyed around the kitchen, completing different tasks and aiding her kitchen apprentices. Naraudo(N-uh-raw-doe), a young reddish handsome squirrel was busy cutting nuts for an almond pear flan.

She watched him critically for a few seconds then said, “They need to be cut a bit thinner. Otherwise you’re doing well. Do you think we should have lunch outside today?”

Naraudo looked up from his work, out the window to the yard considering. “Well, seems to be a pretty nice day. Not too much sun, but it don’t look like snow or rain, though it’ll probably be cold. D’ye want me t’help bring the tables out with me big muscles?” He winked while flexing his average to small sized biceps.

She laughed and shooed him with her apron. “Ahh, sure go. Anything to get away with ye.”

He smiled, quickly dropping his apron and knife, happy to be out of the hot kitchens. Enlisting aid from Jagjo and the skipper of the Weasprears, Joncho (J-on-ko) and a few of the otters and some squirrels, they set to work moving tables out to the grounds. They chattered back and forth happily between grunts.

Blissfully crouched in a tree out of sight from the grounds, Ungbar carefully chose an arrow to nock. The first target seemed to be the red squirrel, since he couldn’t quite remember the other targets. Now, if only he would get into his range.

Ampanna emerged from the orchards, closely followed by Segalia with baskets somewhat full of frost-bitten fruits. They conversed happily, despite the slightly dismal place from whence they came. Ungbar regarded this new squirrel with interest. She could probably do some harm and she seemed to be closer in range. He drew back his arrow. Naraudo couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that they were being watched. Maybe it was something to do with new threat. He doubted the threat would come to anything. Abbess Fern was probably just being paranoid. He shook himself to try and clear his head, attempting to concentrate on the cheerful banter surrounding him.

The weasel archer took careful aim and fired. The goose feather-fletched arrow seemed to move in slow motion. Naraudo’s head whipped up and with a cry he dropped his end of the table and charged slowly towards Ampanna. Ampanna seem confused as to what was happening. Segalia heard a strange sound and looked up. “Noooo!” The sound tore from her lips into the cold air. The arrow seemed to be getting closer all the time. Naraudo couldn’t let this pretty young squirrel get hurt so he leaped and braced himself.

Suddenly it was all over. Ampanna was safe, knocked out of the arrow’s path by this brave red squirrel. Naraudo, on the other paw, was bleeding from a shoulder wound. The squirrelmaid tried to regain her breath. Segalia, stunned as she was, rushed to her friend’s side. Checking that she was okay, she looked over at her friend’s rescuer.

“Thank you,” she said, then started as she realized he was wounded. “Somebeast run and get Goodwife Burna!”

As all this commotion was accuring, Ungbar was nocking another arrow. Though he hadn’t gotten his original goal, he had still shot a squirrel, and there were plenty more chances. He signaled to his companions, who were crouched in nearby trees. They nodded and passed on the message: Attack at all force.

In a few seconds the grounds were bombarded with slingshots, javelins and arrows. Maids shrieked, males shouted, beasts ran and chaos reigned. Ampanna shoved Naraudo out of the way of another arrow.

He smiled up at her. “Thanks”.

“No problem. ‘Sides, you saved me.” Together they helped each other limp over to the red-tinged building, dodging screaming Abbeybeasts.

Chapter 8
Carma’s eyes blinked open, shut, then flickered open again. She examined her surroundings slowly, taking them all in. She seemed to be in a small earthen hut somewhere. Her forehead creased. Oh yes! Memories of the previous day suddenly flooded back in: fighting and meeting the vole. Where was Nottenc anyways?

She slowly sat up and stretched. She heard a noise and turned. There was Nottenc standing over an earthen oven stirring something. Carma rose and went over to her. The vole’s right ear twitched but that was it.

“Good morning ma’am.”

Nottenc grunted a greeting.

Carma thought that she may have offended her yesterday and started to apologize. “Sorry if I came off as rude yesterday. I’ve been traveling a lot so I’m not quite used to being around others. And I was in shock so I may have not said the kindest things.”

A smile broke the vole’s face. She patted the badger’s arm. “Well maybe but it’s okay. I reckon I’m not the nicest beast either.”

Carma nodded pensively. “Then is something wrong?” She asked slowly.

Mrs. Chubbacutch waited a bit before responded. “Not necessarily. Wait while I finish getting this ready and I’ll tell you.” Carma agreed, though confused and went to make the bed that she’d slept in. She smoothed out the light purple bedspread, tucking in the corners. Then she sat on it, wondering what the vole had to say. She was a lot less talkative then yesterday and seemed almost…concerned.

The aforementioned creature plopped down beside her. “I have some…let’s just say advice for you. You have a long journey ahead of you.”

Carma raised an eyebrow but stayed silent.

“You will come across a war where the sides seem uneven. You will cause either joy or destruction. You will bring peace or rule. You could become many things.” She paused for a second then continued. “Don’t let your brother’s death affect you. “

Carma gasped. She hadn’t told Nottenc anything about her brother’s death yesterday. “How’d you…what the…how?” She stammered.

“Let’s just say I have a gift or friend that told me these things. Remember this well. It will help you. I hope you do well on your journey.” Her thin paw momentarily clasped the huge striped one then let it go as she rose. “So do you have any plans? I’ll make you a pack of food if you need to leave. If not, you can stay here as long as you like.”

“I should probably get going.” She stood pondering everything.

“Okay.” The volewife scurried around packing. “We’d love to have you stay though. You could help me take care of Mumzy and it’d help you rest up. Because, as I said, you have a long journey ahead of you. And you were in shock yesterday.”

Carma laughed, a beautiful deep clear sound. “Fine. I’ll stay. But I’ll help cook and stuff. I don’t wanna be a hindrance.”

“Nonsense.” Nottenc grinned. “However, there is one thing that you could do for me.”

“What’s that?”

“You can eat all this food for me!” With that she tossed the half-packed bag of food over to the laughing Carma.

“Happily, ma’am, happily.”

Redwall Abbey was still recovering from the sudden attack. Ampanna was hospitalized so as a result Segalia hung out with Lijel and Wraltor. Sometimes Silverfalcon would be rounded up for their mischief but oftener than not, he’d just wander around the Abbey or practice with his many weapons. Today, the boys had decided to steal some pies from the Kitchen windows.

“Steal? Shall I refresh yore memory, Lijel? We have an otter code…and on it it says do not steal!”

Lijel shrugged as if to say ‘What of it?’

“It’s okay, Seg.” Wraltor said smiling. “We do it all the time and it’s okay!”

Segalia still wasn’t convinced. “Isn’t Redwall in trouble right now? You know, th’attack, food shortages?”

“How ‘bout we take the pies and deliver ‘em to the beasts in the Infirmary? That way we’re sorta like Robin Hood.” Lijel suggested.

“Who’s Robin ‘ood?” Wraltor asked confused.

“’E was a fox who stole from the rich and gave to the poor way back when." Explained Segalia. "I don’t know ‘bout that idea.”

“C’mon, it’ll be fun!” Lijel insisted.

“Fine, but we need to be careful.” The light of adventure started to gleam in Segalia’s eyes.

They huddled together and thought out a simple plan, mischievous smiles on their faces. A few minutes later there were three grubby otters in the Infirmary presenting a hot blueberry pie to a smiling Ampanna.

The hairy tip of the ear flicked as a fly landed on it. The see-through crystal-like wings sped it around in a circle back to buzz around the head that accompanied the ear. A paw fluttered impatiently but almost unconsciously at it. The fly took the hint soon enough and sped off. The owner of the head, ear and paw didn’t notice. She was too busy trying to listen in to the war council behind the thick door.

“I can’t ‘ear anything!” Her brother stamped his paw on the ground impatiently.

Selra chewed her lip with one of her bottom protruding fangs. Only jumbled words were getting received by her ears. Still, she had to keep trying. For some strange reason that she herself didn’t quite understand she had to know what was going on in the meeting.

“Quiet, Riplar!”

He tchiiiped annoyed then joined her at the door. A few words filtered through: Kill, all, destroy, plunder, aim well, woodlanders. This was accompanied with a few cheers. Riplar and Selra shared confused looks and pressed their ears back to the door. A few more words were exchanged and then the sounds of chairs scraping came to them. A quick worried look flashed between the fox cubs and they raced off, their calloused footpaws slapping on the stone floor.

A few minutes later found them reclining in a tree a bit away from the castle. Only a few falling leaves would reveal to a passerby that they were there. Riplar was completely relaxed, his eyes closed and his chest heaving slower. The little sunlight that filtered in through the thick foliage dappled on his content face. Selra’s face however, wore a slightly confused and concerned look.

“Rip?” She asked after a few minutes.

“Hm?”

“What’d you think about the war council?”

He shrugged, raining some tree dust down on his sister. “What is there to think about?”

Selra shrugged in turn. “I don’t know.” The thought was still unformed in her mind; it was just a feeling at the moment.

“Father is a war lord after all.”

“That's true, I suppose. Still, we weren’t really alive the last time he warred someone.”

“We were alive when we took over this island.”

“Yeah, but we were only two or so. We didn’t really notice that much. This however, is different. We will probably see a real war and killing.” She shuddered slightly.

Riplar sat up. “You really think we’ll get to see part of the war?”

“It’s not a thing to get excited about.”

“Well...in a way.” Now Riplar ported a confused look. It soon vanished and was replaced by an anticipatory look. “Ya think he’ll let us fight some?”

Selra’s eyes widened in excitement. “Now that would be cool. Maybe I could get a bow.” Still, as she settled back in the tree she couldn’t deny the gnawing feeling in her gut.

Chapter 9
Things had fallen into a simple rhythm: Rise, help Nottenc in the kitchen, watch Mumzy for a bit, go out for a while, return, do a workout that might consist of battling Nottenc then sleep. These events were often punctuated by eating and sometimes moments of boredom.

During one of these moments of boredom Nottenc had noticed. “Honey? Don’t you have something to do?”

Carma heaved her beginning to broaden shoulders up and down. “Beats me. Do you want me to help you with something?” She moved to sit up but the volewife placed a comforting but restraining paw on her shoulder.

“It’s okay. You know what? I have something for you. Wait right here.” With that she turned and moved surprisingly sprightly across the dwelling. She disappeared behind a cleft for a few moments and the badger heard rustling sounds. Nottenc soon appeared holding something in her thin paws and blowing dust off of it.

“There now. Here.” She handing the strange square-like thing to Carma who stared at it. Not wanting to appear rude but not wanting to appear ignorant she stared at it a few minutes longer.

Finally Nottenc broke the silence. “It’s a book, dear.”

That sparked a few links. She remembered seeing some similar things back where she’d used to live. She could read though her writing was sparse and her spelling worse. It hadn’t exactly been her strong point. She frowned slightly, not exactly thrilled with the gift.

“Come on. Take a little time to look through it. I think you’ll enjoy it. It’s about Badger Lady and Mother Cregga Rose Eyes.” Seeing Carma’s brown eyes light up at that she continued. “It’s not like you have much else to do. Now go enjoy yourself.”

With a little prodding she took the tome to a quiet place and started slowly devouring it. Reading proved much easier when you had something interesting to read. Carma’s new goal in life was to become like Cregga. She didn’t want to be blinded and she wasn’t quite sure if she’d rather be Badger Lady or Badger Mother but this was enough for now.

Following this, she spent many hours wandering the woods working on different skills necessary. On one such trip she came upon to unlikely characters.

His arm was nearly jerked out of his socket as Segalia turned and sped to the left. Maben next to him was practically lifted into the air by him and Korla. Another twist and they came closer to their quarry. He squeezed Segalia’s paw because the sweat was making his paws slippery. He put on a burst of speed and Korla’s paw brushed Wraltor’s back. They had done it.

“Is that it?” Segalia asked searching the vast Abbey lawns.

“I don’t know.” Korla gasped. “Who else…is playing?”

Maben scrunched up his nose. “Katya was pwayin’ inside wiv de oders. Maybe she’ll come pway.”

Segalia’s eyebrow rose skeptically. “Didn’t ye already ask her iffen she wanted t’play?”

He shrugged. “Maybe she’ll wanna pway now.”

“I doubt it. If we’ve caught everyone…” Her grip on his paw slackened.

A hesitating voice caught their attention. “Kin…kin h’I play?”

They turned to face Silverfalcon. He had placed some of his weapons in the room in which he was staying and still others on the grass beside the wall. He was left with vambraces and two daggers.

“You wanna play?” Korla asked doubtfully.

He shrugged. “H’I ‘aven’t played much since h’I was a kid. H’even then, the Juskasie weren’t big on playin’ iffen ye know Ah mean.”

“Well then do you know the rules to Amoeba or Blob or Chain?” Segalia asked the new potential prey.

“Not really.”

“Lessee, we,” She gestured to the others with her free paw, “are it. When yore caught you join paws with us and continue catchin’ beasts. You don’t ever split up and you can’t catch somebeast if yore not holding paws. Get it?” She tightened her grip on his paw again.

He slowly bowed and raised his head. “H’I think so.”

She grinned maliciously. “Hold paws! Five, four, three…”

Silver started backing up then turned and ran.

“Two, one! C’mon!” She ran after him, dodging a passerby. Lijel ran fast, keeping even with her, so his arm wouldn’t be wrenched out of socket again.

The passerby smiled and stepped back a bit as the last beast, Wraltor, raced past. She turned to Skipper Joncho. “Isn’t it so nice to see them playing so cheerfully?”

He nodded grimly. “As long as they don’t get killed.”

“Why,” the Abbess swatted at him playfully, “don’t say such things.” Her face grew a bit dour. “Still, I hope they don’t come back and attack us. I don’t know if we could stand another attack.”

“Do you want me to start whippin’ some h’Abbeybeasts into fightin’ shape?”

“I hate to but…”

“H’it’s the only way we’ll be shure t’live.”

“I hate it but if it’s the only way then go ahead. I’ll let you take care of the war plans. Consult me only when necessary.” Fern turned to leave but he stopped her.

“Segalia’s gettin’ to be a great archer and Lijel’s not bad with a sword.”

“What are you saying?”

He looked straight into her eyes. “H’I’m sayin’, h’I’ll ‘afta use the young’uns.”

She stared at the ground a long moment. She murmured something along the lines of them being so young then pulled her head up, her eyes full of grief. “If it’s absolutely necessary…do it. Just please, try to keep them alive.”

“H’I’ll do wot Ah kin miss, H’I’ll do wot Ah kin.”

Grovelum paced in the throne room, back and forth and back again. He was making many plans against Redwall Abbey and had executed several of them. The problem was they didn’t seem to be taking effect. They had wounded several Redwallers, effectively putting them out of action, that much was true. The problem, he figured, was that he was making a big and powerful enough impact on them. What would help would be a bigger army, more help. He sighed. He still wasn’t closer to solving this problem then he had been beforehand.

A tapping interrupted him. “Go away!” He called. Was peace and quiet too much to ask for? The tapping continued becoming louder. He raised his paw, clenched his fist and whirled around, his cape flapping dramatically. “Please! Leave me…”

His voice trailed off as his eyes examined the strange creature in front of him. It was a coyote, who carried himself with a royal manner but his eyes declared otherwise. His eyes pronounced him crazy and mad with Bloodwrath. His cape had not recovered from his many fights and was tattered and blood-stained, the blue color hard to see. The tapping had come from his gold-topped cane, some more evidence of his fighting state.

“Slashclaw! It’s so good to see you again!” With a few steps, Grovelum traversed the space between them and was greeting Slashclaw the Mad. They shook paws then pulled each other into a hug, hitting each other on the back.

“So, what have you been up to lately? I haven’t seen you forever!”

Slashclaw cackled. “Oh this and that you know. Going here, fighting there.” He shrugged. “The usual. What have you been doing?”

“Slashclaw old matey, you came just in time. I have been working constantly for a while to take over the infamous Redwall Abbey. It’s not working. I need more beasts, I need a bigger impact, I need…I need help.”

“Well then I’m your beast!” He cackled again, this time accompanied with a snort.

“I would be forever grateful if you did. Do we have arrangements for your stay?” He started towards the door then turned back. “You are staying I presume?”

“Yes, yes. Don’t worry about it, Rori’s taking care of it.”

“How’s Rori these days?”

“Loyal as ever. He’s getting good with an axe too. Now, about those war plans. What do you have so far?”

The two friends chatted and worked deviously hard, oblivious to the coming night.

(A/N: Credit goes to Sale(m) for Slashclaw the Mad and Rori. Thanks!)

Chapter 10
With her newfound skills of reading and writing, Carma had started a journal. One entry went like this:

Dear Diary,

''It’s been two days since it happened and I can’t stop thinking about it. I don’t know if something’s wrong with me or not. It was just so mind-boggling. And he was just so…Let me start at the beginning.''

''You know how I’ve been taking walks acting like Lady Cregga Rose Eyes? (*See Entry Cregga Rose Eyes is Awesome for further detail) Well the other day ago I was taking a walk and I heard some strange noises. I hid behind a tree to see what it was.''

''First out came the strangest creature. It was like a fox but grayer and almost scrawnier. He was ragged and looked quite mad. I got ready to attack him if needed.''

''But then who should come along but another badger! He looked to be around my age and he was indeed handsome. He was pretty buff too. I wanted to get to know him better. Imagine my shock when he went up to the weird creature and said “Master Slashclaw, how much farther is it?”''

''Master? That strange thing was his master! Since then I’ve been in an absolute tumult of emotions. The more I saw of the young boar, the more I wanted to get to know him. But I was repulsed by his master. Maybe the master was good. He just looks too much like a vermin.''

''They had a small banter and Slashclaw turned out to be insane like I thought. The badger went right along with it. He was just so loyal to that crazy thing. Maybe that means that the master was really good so that means that the badger was. Oh and I believe Slashclaw called him Rori.''

''Rori, such a nice name. It almost seems familiar. I just don’t know what to do about this. Maybe I could find them again and ask him about himself. Two things are for certain, I don’t know what to do and I may be in love for the very first time.''

''P.S. Nottenc helped me out with the vocabulary and spelling. Isn’t she so nice?''

Carma rose from the table and looked out the window into the distance, as if by wishing hard enough she could see Rori again.

With a resounding crack, the two weapons crashed and came away. One swung back surprisingly quickly.

“Take that back!” The cry came from Segalia, whose eyes were cloudeded with a rosy red, her weapon swinging crazily. If watched closely, it was possible to tell there was a slight pattern to her strikes but it was well concealed.

If her opponent was thinking, he would be thanking anybeast, probably Mother Nature, that they weren’t using real swords. He was however, hard-pressed to think of anything besides defending himself. His stave was wobbling, weakly blocking most or some of the strikes. Naraudo was wishing that he really had muscles as buff as he always bragged. For that matter, he wished he hadn’t said anything in the first place.

“Now! Say sorry! Take it back!” The words were punctuated with hard blows to the stick and the squirrel’s body; trembling, the makeshift sword slipped from his sweaty paws. His breaths came in sobs and he collapsed to the ground.

“S-so-sor…” The word refused to come out. It wouldn’t matter if it had. Segalia continued to rain blows on him, then seeing that he was down, raised her stick for the killing blow. Paws grasped her, their owners having finally reached her, and she turned ferociously on them. She landed at least one blow before two beasts grabbed the sword and two others pinned her down. She struggled fiercely, her eyes a bright red.

“Lemme at ‘im!”

“Seg! Seg! Segalia Riverstorm!”

The words pervaded her mental red block. She shook herself and growled, “What?!”

“Segalia, it’s me, Ampanna. Stop. Calm down. It’s okay.”

Segalia’s sweaty body trembled then relaxed, her chest heaving. Ampanna and the Skipper tentatively released her shoulders. She jerked over to where Naraudo lay whimpering and punched him in the side. Her elbow was caught before she could continue. This time they forced to the ground on her stomach and Lijel, who had helped catch her sword, sat on her lower legs, Ampanna on her back and Skipper held her arms. Wraltor, who had also helped catch the sword, helped wherever needed.

They waited until struggling wore her out. They waited until they were sure that every trace of red was gone from her eyes. They waited until they decided it was safe to let her up. Then they freed her to sit in a protective circle around her. Segalia flopped over and breathed wearily. Then, with slight trembling, she sat up. She crossed her legs and put her elbows on her knees, resting her head in her paws.

“Now,” Skipper Joncho’s voice was firm, “Do ye want t’ tell me wot that ‘twas all ‘bout?”

Ampanna raised a cautious paw.

“Wot is it?”

“Should we get Goodwife Burna t’look at Naraudo?”

“Yes, run and do that.” He waved her off, not turning his attention from the tan ottermaid.

“Well?”

“I…he…He started it.”

Her interrogator’s eyebrow rose. “Yore ‘ow old, Segalia, and that’s yore ‘scuse?”

“Lemme ‘splain.” The request was slightly muffled and her voice showed signs of exhaustion.

Joncho’s blunt nod, felt more than seen, was all she needed. “Y’see, we came out here to start weapons trainin’ like y’told us to. You assigned us partners for a mock swordfight.” She sighed heavily. “I got Naraudo. It started off nicely enough, bit of sparring, a few darting at sides, y’know, the usual. While we were fightin’, we were talkin’. He asked me wot me primary weapon was. I said, of course, ‘Bow and arrows.’ He laughed and said that of course I would do that. That females often did archery because it was safer because you didn’t have t’be in the battle. That they were sissies and of course I wouldn’t take a more manly weapon like him.”

They totally ignored the moles who came and carried Naraudo to the infirmary. Ampanna looked after them, back at her friend then back at the red squirrel. She scampered after him.

Segalia raised her head for the first time. “Y’know wot me temper’s like. It just snapped. He was provoking me and he deserved it.” Her tone changed from pleading to defensive. She shook and dropped her head. “Still, I don’t know why I beat ‘im up as viciously as I did. Generally it’s just one blow and I feel pretty justified. He just started talking and my temper started flaring up, so I started fighting harder. When he finished I was just seeing red. It’s like I couldn’t stop myself.” She sounded more perplexed then scared but Lijel heard the tremor that escaped into her voice.

She opened her mouth as if she was going to continue but then closed her jaw and continued examining the ground. Skipper Joncho took a deep breath and the boys simply gazed at their friend.

“Segalia,” the skipper started then paused to rub his forehead, “H’I’ve known ye since ye were a wee little thing. Always runnin’ ‘round wild, doin’ crazy darin’ stuff.” She poked a curious eye at him, not quite understanding what baby stories had to do with anything. “H’I guess, Ah always ‘spected this would ‘appen. Yore ma has too. Didn’t want ye to, so Ah told ‘er h’I’d watch out for ye.”

They all gazed at him, wondering where his rambling was headed. He sighed then continued steering doggedly, albeit crookedly, to his point. “Y’see we ‘ad our suspicions that you were a Bloodwrather.”

They merely gaped at him, mouths open, eyes staring. Segalia’s mouth moved, trying to form words, but gave up. Lijel was the first to break the silence by slapping his thigh. “Well, that ‘splains a lot. Yore temper, always so angry and violent…yore a Bloodwrathy otter!”

Wraltor smiled, but his forehead was creased. “H’I thought that only ‘flicted badgers. ‘N’ last Ah checked, Seg’s an h’otter.”

Joncho chuckled. “True, true. ‘Owever, it ‘as been known to ‘fect otherbeasts like our Seg here.” He turned to her. “So, ‘ow do you feel ‘bout all this?”

“Shocked, surprised, a little happy, a bit relieved, some confused, then part of me totally ‘spected it.”

He laughed again and hit her on the back. “That’s t’be ‘spected. These things don’t come easy. Why, h’I ‘member when yore aunt found out she was one.” The blue eyes, now clear of all red besides blood channels, snapped over to him.

“Wot?”

“Not yore aunt Korbermna. No, yore aunt Lisya. Y’know, the one ‘o’s always off travelin’ t’some distant place or h’another.”

“Makes sense.”

Segalia nodded in agreement with Lijel. “H’I wish, she was ‘ere. Maybe she could ‘elp me with it.”

“Or ye could go to Salama-wot’sit ‘n’ see if the Badger Lord ‘as Bloodwrath and kin ‘elp ye.” Wraltor’s suggestion brought a smile to her face which hadn’t been seen since the start of the discussion.

“It’s okay, Seg. Being a warrior and skipper meself, Ah’ve got a bit of ‘sperience in that area. Plus, Ah’m sure there ‘re books ‘bout it. We’ll be fine. We’ll work on it durin’ our lessons.” Skipper Joncho rose to his footpaws.

So did Wraltor and Lijel, who offered to help Segalia up. She stared at it, intending to disregard as she normally did when anybeast offered, but her exhaustion got the better of her. Calloused paw met calloused paw, as they had when they played Amoeba, and biceps contracted. Lijel stumbled momentarily as Segalia put on more strength than he had originally planned on but he hefted and soon they were both standing.

“Come, that’s ‘nough for the day.” The skipper’s proclamation made them shout with glee. “We should see ‘ow your wounded ‘ponent’s doin’.” This was not, but they trooped merrily into the formidable redstone building nonetheless.

Riplar yawned as the shining blade flashed closer and closer with each swing. The growing muscles bulged and contracted. The blade went towards his throat, stopping just a hair’s-breadth away.

“Dead.”

The word was accompanied with applause from a nearby tree where two footpaws swung back and forth. Riplar reached up and pushed Rori’s axeblade away.

“Yeah, that was cool.” The twins were watching Rori practice his weapon with the hope of, that their father had eagerly informed them of, starting to be able to learn their own weapon in a few weeks.

Selra dropped from the tree, a small dust cloud rising around her. “So, are you nearly done?”

“Why? What’s up?”

The foxmaid darted her eyes about, not meeting his. “Oh nothing, I just wanted to ask you something.”

Rori arched his black eyebrow. “Shoot.”

“Um, does it ever, like, annoy you when Slashclaw, I mean Mr. Slashclaw, I don’t know, hurts beasts?”

The hazel eyes taking in the fidgeting girl hardened. Rori turned away.

Riplar groaned. “She’s been going on about this for a while now. Ignore her.” He didn’t want to admit how deeply it resonated with him.

Rori shook his massive head. “No, no, it’s alright. That’s just a touchy subject.”

Now it was their turn to raise their eyebrows. The badger sighed. “Okay, let’s look at this for a second. Or just look at me for that matter. I am a,” He waited for their answers.

“Badger?” Their reply was simultaneous.

“Yes. That means I’m a typical,” He made quotation marks with his thick fingers, “woodlander, right? But Slashclaw doesn’t think that. He knows that once I killed another woodlander so he assumes I’m good with it, especially since I kill vermin.” He made quotation marks again.

The twins stared at him, not quite knowing where he was going.

Rori continued, “Slashclaw also believes that I’m a valuable, loyal servant. If he believed I was of no use to him, in his state he may dispose of me. But in my position, sometimes I can try and alter the poor fate of some woodlander.”

“Vermin too?”

Selra’s question caught him off guard. “I guess.”

“I mean, being around typical or atypical vermin a lot would mean that you weren’t prejudiced against all of us like most woodlanders, right?”

“Well, yeah.” He cocked his head to the side in assent and confusion.

“I think, for example, what she’s trying to ask is that if we were in an unfair position, you would try to save us?”

“Or other vermin.”

The questions that were hard to answer were almost harder to contemplate. Rori experienced a lot of prejudice from being a woodlander under “control” of a “vermin”. He had never really considered that the prejudice went many ways. “Woodlanders”, of course, didn’t like him at first because they thought him a traitor. “Vermin” didn’t know if they could trust him then congratulated Slashclaw for “taming” him. But now, the foxes presented him with the simple fact that “woodlanders” were prejudiced against all “vermin” assuming they were here to hurt them and therefore hurting them first.

This was too much to think about. Rori flopped onto the ground.

“Well?”

“I think so. I mean, yeah, for you two definitely, for others, I don’t know.”

Selra’s eyes hardened in a way which they would become accustomed to seeing. “Of course.”

Riplar shook off the complicated thinking and leaped onto his friend. With many sounds and cries the two wrestled on the ground and a smile eventually came to Selra’s face. The conversation had gone a bit off the course that she had wanted it to follow but she had learned some things that she could sort out later.

She leaped into the fray and pulled the badger’s ear.

“Hey, not fair! Two against one!”

“You’re a badger!”

“You’re bigger!”

“Ah!” The playful cries brought a smile to Oxos’s face as she worked on “business” with her husband and Slashclaw the Mad.

Chapter 11
A cry split the air. Carma’s mind snapped back to the present from its extensive wanderings. Extensive wanderings that had involved complicated stuff that she was starting to think she should stop thinking about. She put this into effect by examining the source of the cry.

Her brown eyes instantly shot to where she had last seen the water vole child. Nope, the now tottering Mumzy had teetered away from there. Ah, there she was. The cries, which had stopped for a hiccupping second, crescendoed. Her care keeper rushed over to find the cause of her cries so that she could stop them.

The water vole looked up with wide eyes full of pain and tears, some which had already cascaded down. “Ahma!”

The toddler’s name for her made her smile but only shortly as Mumzy started crying again.

“Mumzy, what’s wrong?” Her big, rough paws enfolded the shaking babe. In answer, a small paw was held up. At first Carma still did not see what was wrong and was about to ask when the light caught on some small shafts sticking out of the miniature appendage. Her mind whirled between several possibilities.

“Mumzy, calm down. What were you doing when this happened?”

The non-afflicted paw pointed quiveringly at a nearby bush. This confirmed Carma’s suspicions. “Okay, I’m gonna need you to hold still. Can you do that for me?”

She kept her voice calm and controlled so as not to scare the girl and slowly pulled out her stiletto. Mumzy sniffled and nodded. The badgermaid gripped the small chubby paw gently but firmly. She then carefully scraped the blade of the knife across the paw until the stinging nettle barbs were all gone. Mumzy’s sobs and sniffs quieted until she was almost silent.

Carma slowly stood. “D’you wanna go home now?”

Mumzy sniffed and nodded.

“Okay.” Her babysitter gently took her uninjured paw to start walking back to the bankside home.

“Ahma?”

“Yes?”

“Iggyack ide?”

Carma looked at the slightly bleary soft eyes and softened immediately. “Sure.”

The vole was all glee now as she scrambled up on the badger’s broad back. Carma smiled, hefted the light weight once and took off for the abode through the darkening woods. Giggles filled the air setting a light mood to the night. The dark added a nice touch to everything, especially the colorful leaves that covered the ground yet still graced the trees. It was indeed a beautiful night.

Normally, this beauty would not have been missed by Nottenc. The volewife was many things, one of which included a lover of beauty and nature. Tonight however, her mind was distracted from the late fall display of splendor. So, when the young females returned she was not in the mood for amusement.

Carma and Mumzy rolled about on the grass still breathless from the long jog. Mumzy leaped onto Carma’s stomach who responded with an “oof!” They continued to laugh tiredly as their energy waned. Nottenc had been busily working about the house and now came out hearing the noise. A small smile brushed across her tired features. Carma noticed just how old and tired her friend looked so she came over to her.

“Nottenc?” The volewife had insisted on a first-name basis against Carma’s deferential background which in the end worked against her.

“Hm?” accompanied by a slight ascent of her head was the only acknowledgement Carma’s inquiry got.

She pushed on and got straight to the point. “What is it?”

The sigh that escaped the thin lips was care-worn and heavy. “I saw some vermin today.”

“We see a few fairly often. Why is this unusual?” She kept an even tone trying not to probe.

Nottenc finally looked over at her. “It wasn’t a few. It was an attack force. I’m worried, Carma. I want to protect Mumzy.” They both glanced over the girl who had curled up in the grass and fallen asleep. “I’ve been thinking, maybe we should head to Redwall Abbey.”

“You haven’t just been thinking about it.” Nottenc didn’t object. “You’ve been doing something about it. But it sounds like a good idea. What do you need help with?”

The volewife realized just how much the badgermaid had matured since she had gotten to know her. Another smile flickered across her mouth.

“Not much. I was nearly done when you came.”

Carma nodded. “We should probably travel at night so that we can be a bit safer against potential attacks.”

Nottenc nodded in return then turned to finish packing up the necessary essentials. A striped paw stopped her.

“Rest with her.” Carma jerked her thumb towards Mumzy. “I’ll finish up.”

This time the smile was broader, truer. “Thank you, Carma. You’ve truly grown up.”

The badger’s grown up facade was broken with the blush that spread across her wide cheeks. She hurried the tired lady over to her daughter and entered the humble dwelling to pack. Feeling slightly overwhelmed by memories, she did the job quickly.

Soon she emerged and the packs were dealt out. Mumzy rested in a pack on Carma’s back, her head gently thumping against the black and white expanse. Nottenc took a last melancholy look at her boarded up home then faced the direction of their prospective shelter. Carma gave her a compassionate glance and they headed off with the darkness spreading, the sun long set.

The partially full moon cast a soft glow over Redwall Abbey, shrouding it in a warm light-spun blanket. The typical night creatures were out and about making their noises.

Wraltor smiled contentedly. He was sprawled over the battlements, his arm over the cold stone. This was one of his favorite places to sit, well, lounge. He could look over the woods or his beloved Abbey whichever way he looked. It was very peaceful and great for thinking things through. And since this was a more secluded area of the wall, he was generally alone.

But it didn’t seem like it was going to be that way tonight. A shadow seemed to be making its way towards him. The bell-ringer unconsciously pressed himself closer to the red stone and shivered at the contact. The cold, which he was suddenly very conscious of, seemed to seep through his fur. Wraltor had a strange habit of taking off his tunic at random throughout the day as he found it more comfortable. Of course, he had shorts on underneath but all of a sudden he felt very self-conscious. Maybe it was because he ate too much dessert at supper. Ah, but that fruit crumble with whipped meadowcream was too good to resist.

Wraltor brought his mind back with a start. The simple joy of letting his thoughts ramble over anything and everything was one of the reasons he enjoyed sitting here but he needed to be on alert. Who knew? It could even be an invading enemy, what with the enemy abroad in Mossflower. Suddenly, he found himself searching for a potential weapon. He glanced back at the shadow and laughed at the absurdity of it all. He was worried about an invader when he was on a relatively safe spot on the wall. And now he recognized the shadow. The tuft of fur there, the gait, yep there was no doubt about it.

Wraltor breathed and let himself relax from the wall’s cold grip. Then he straightened up, hoping, this time, that his friend would recognize him. When this didn’t seem to be working, he decided to call to him. Surreptitiously of course; he wouldn’t want the whole of Redwall to hear him.

“Lijel!”

The dark brown head stayed bowed. Hm, what was up with him? Was he purposely ignoring him? Nah, he wouldn’t do that to him. A peacemaker at heart, Wraltor refused to think the worst about any friends; therefore he stood up to catch his new friend’s attention.

For a moment he thought he saw a reaction then realized it was nothing. Something was obviously wrong. Wraltor took a few steps towards Lijel, hesitated, then thumped him on the back. The result was instantaneous.

A paw snapped out and caught Wraltor on the side of his head. The other paw floated next to it, ready to follow with a hard blow if needed. Lijel’s head was lifted, eyes darting everywhere, the light glinting eerily off of them. Not good. Wraltor back slowly away with his paws peaceably in the air. The whole right side of his head was starting to pound painfully. The first sharp shock of the hit had started to dull but still, this was some powerful stuff.

The glinting eyes fully landed on him and came to a stop. They widened, though with what Wraltor was a bit too hard-pressed to tell. The pain was still fading and he blinked his eyes rapidly. The fists had uncurled and were raised in a matter that seemed to be imitating his all the way down to the walking backwards. Then the paws were over the face and the dark brown head was bowed again. Wraltor widened his eyes, shook his head a bit and tried to reason out what was happening.

“Dude, what’s up?” That seemed to be the only comprehensible thing to emerge but it worked.

Lijel looked up then ran his paw through some fur on his head. He didn’t look at Wraltor but instead out over the woods. Wraltor looked out too.

“Pretty night.” It was a pathetic attempt at a conversation starter and he almost felt like facepalming himself.

Lijel mumbled something.

“Hm?”

“Sorry.”

“Oh, it’s okay. It was an accident.” He shrugged. “Seriously though, what’s up? You were so concentrated.” He wrinkled his nose as if thinking was strange and deep thinking abnormal.

Lijel leaned on the battlements and laughed dryly. Wraltor decided to simply wait it out and leaned his own elbows against the battlements. He was very surprised when the dry laughter did not peter out but instead became fuller and louder. He peeked around the large parapet and saw his friend shaking, bent over, with mirth.

“Um, Lijel?” His muted enquiry didn’t seem to have any effect on his friend. Wraltor was about to ask again when the strange laughter abruptly stopped. If he hadn’t known better, he would have thought that Lijel had consumed a bit too much October Ale or one of the other more alcoholic beverages. As it was…

“Do y‘need t’see Goodwife Burma? Maybe you got Bloodwrath like Seg. That’d be funny…ironic too, ‘specially seeing as we just found out ‘bout her and yore always fighting.”

The dark otter shifted to one arm only and turned to Wraltor, truly meeting his eyes for the first time that night. They did not reveal much but they were enough to stop the babbling. Suddenly he realized that any apparent momentary joviality had subtly disappeared. He was beginning to feel that the few tussles they had had truly did not mean he knew this mysterious otter.

“It’s not that. Or anything like that. Opposite actually.” A small dry chuckle flew out of Lijel’s lips. The bellringer intuitively knew that this wasn’t going to escalade and this time he was right. The dark eyes glanced at him but this time Wraltor felt like they were probing his very soul. For some reason he didn’t feel very intimidated so he waited for the result of the probing.

Lijel looked away and Wraltor knew that the test was over. He simply had no idea whether or not he had failed and flunked or passed. When Lijel finally decided to speak in clear sentences, he felt that he had passed. They resumed their previous positions against the wall as the words came.

“So, Ah was thinkin’ ‘bout a few things ‘n’ decided t’come up ‘ere for some peace ‘n’ quiet. ‘N’ Ah found ye. But ye startled me ‘n’ Ah reacted violently. Which is a main reason that Ah was thinkin’ so ‘ard.”

A short silence fell and while Wraltor was at a loss for what to do, he simply waited. Sighing, Lijel continued.

“H’I suppose it may be useful to h‘inform somebeast wot’s up.” This seemed to be directed at himself rather than Wraltor so he again stayed silent.

“It’s the war. Y’know ‘ow as kids you always play war games? ‘Ave you realized just ‘ow wrong that is? Ah nevah enjoyed the games much as a kid. Now as we’re faced with a real war, Ah just can’t do it.”

A few cricket chirps filled the air dimming the slight white noise of the Redwallers distant chatter.

“Of course though, Ah could nevah say sumthin’ like that. Me, one of the bigger boys, the leader, scared o’war? Yeah right. H’I couldn’t quite say it ‘ere either. Ah just don’t know what t’do.”

This prompted a response from Wraltor. “Why? Why do you um…not like war? H’is it ‘cause you don’t wanna hurt somebeast?”

Lijel stared at the dark red stone under his elbows. “H’in a way.” Wraltor had to strain to hear it and when he comprehended it, he wished for an elaboration. Because that was how he felt. It wasn’t necessarily because he was a wimp or too soft-hearted. It was because he didn’t want to hurt somebeast, much less kill them. He had a terribly guilty conscience. And he didn’t want to find out how bad his guilt would be if he killed somebeast.

“Well yeah, Ah don’t wanna ‘urt anybeast. The thing is, seems like Ah’ve got a tendency to ‘urt otherbeasts. H’I wave me paw and somebeast gets a bloody nose. Like just now for h’instance, y’startled me and Ah whacked ye in the side o’the ‘ead and ‘urt ye. H’It makes me feel so guilty.”

Lijel looked over at Wraltor and saw the compassion and empathy he needed to continue. “Especially when everybeast blames ye which means ye ‘ave to react t’keep your reputation. Even if ye don’t know iffen ye want t’keep that reputation. Besides, Ah mean, they’ve ‘ardly dun anything t’us. Course there was the shooting, but still…when did we suddenly get thrust into war?”

“When th’Abbess went paranoid. When they started settin’ up a stronghold. When they attacked us.” Wraltor leaned against the side of the parapet closer to his troubled friend. It was getting annoying having to lean around each time he wanted to look at his friend. Of course, males weren’t big on the whole “look into eyes while speaking” thing, but it was refreshing every now and then.

“Y’see, the Abbey is so steeped in peace but they’re really geared for war. H’at the slightest thing, they’ll leap up with their weapons and charge. H’it almost makes me wonder iffen it’s not really a secret war-startin’ army.”

The short chuckle was realer this time and Wraltor joined in. “’Tis a strange thing though. H’I’ve lived ‘ere all my life but h’it still surprises me. H’I like the peace aspect, just sometimes it seems so fake.”



Lijel nodded then turned sharply to his confidant. “You feel it too?”

“The fakeness o’the peace?”

“No, the unwillingness to kill or hurt. H’I mean, peace is a relative concept ‘n’ most undoubtedly, a temporary one due to the nature of beasts. But still, you feel it too?”

Wraltor nodded, pondering Lijel’s uncharacteristic seriousness and deep meditation. He shivered at a gust of wind forcing him against the cold stone. The dark otter smiled a big smile which changed into a more familiar smirk.

“So, do tell Wraltor, why d’you wander ‘round th’Abbey bare-chested? Tryin’ t’impress the ladies with your barely muscular pecs?” A fist hit the aforementioned pectorals, not bone-breakingly hard, but painful enough to show that Lijel hadn’t lost any masculine tendencies to friendly violence.

Wraltor rolled his eyes while trying to catch his breath. “Habit. ‘Sides, Ah’ve seen you checkin’ yourself out when you go swimmin’.”

“H’I do not check meself out…” The indignant look switched to a wink. “Though, Ah don’t mind iffen the ladies do.”

The cocky brag lifted their spirits and soon they were pummeling away at each other, bragging and just being boys. The moon smiled down at them, happy as if she knew it wouldn’t last.

Sneaking around the Inland Lake castle was quite a bit harder than she had previously anticipated. Selra was used to getting her way and being allowed all over simply because she was the princess. She snapped back into the shadows at the sound of yet another passing guard. Finally the guard reached the corner and turned. The interval between the guard on this corridor and the next was short but if she rushed…the princess skidded into the next shadow just in time. She breathed in deeply while trying to maintain silence when a paw slammed over her mouth and she was dragged backwards.

Selra sighed. The characters in the few books that the tutors had managed to get her to read never mentioned how much this actually hurt. She ran her tongue over her mouth, checking for injuries, while she stretched her paw over her captor’s arm. Her finger slipped over a furless line. Just as she had suspected.

“Rori, lemme go!” The request was muffled by the badger’s paw but the guard still froze in mid-step. They froze, Rori’s arm just short of her muzzle and her head close enough to hear his rapidly beating heart. Hearing no other noise, the weasel continued on his way. After a second, Selra whirled around.

“Seriously?” Her tone, though whispered, made it clear to Rori that she was irate. “You knew I was coming and I’m one of the only foxes here.”

Despite the lack of light, she still could tell that he rolled his eyes. “C’mon, we’re wasting time.”

She rolled her eyes this time and shouldered past him. It wasn’t that far to the kitchen where they would pick up food then meet Riplar in the courtyard. Soon they arrived. Rori’s paw stopped her yet again before she entered. Before she could tirade soundlessly, he motioned to the vent by his head. It helped circulate air but also allowed a limited view of the kitchen. Selra growled quietly in the back of her throat at being stopped by him then peered through on her tiptoes. An otter was busy stirring a pot of something with one paw while he looked at a recipe in the other. He blinked a few times then reached for the cupboard.

The fox leaned against the wall. “Do these guys never sleep?” She hissed irritated at nobeast in particular.

“Not when they have to be ready for breakfast at 6:30 and a feast for lunch.”

In Selra’s already annoyed tired state, this didn’t help. “Argh, whatever. What now, genius?” But the badger was already headed in. When she made to go after him, he motioned her back. She made a face behind his back at his bossiness then turned to look through the vent.

“Excuse me?” Rori’s low voice rumbled through the darkness. Nothing happened. He repeated himself a bit louder. The otter jumped and turned, though the princess noted the quick motion to keep from spilling the pot.

“What do ye need, Master Rori?” He inclined his head.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but Slashclaw is in need of a midnight snack. Perhaps you have something that would suffice?” His eloquence surprised her but she soon caught the meaning of his darting eyes. Rori occupied the otterchef while she darted into the pantry.

“What’re some o’ ‘is fav’rite foods, Master?”

“He has a preference for sweet stuff. Oh, and the master is not necessary. I’m only a servant like you.”

“But ‘e treats ye with such ‘igh respect!”

“It may seem that way but trust me,” Rori bent conspiratorially as the otter’s searching paw wavered, “I’m getting the short end of the rope, literally.”

For the first time, Selra wondered how he had gotten that scar on his forearm. She had assumed it had been in a fight but…what if Slashclaw had done it? She knew that he wasn’t necessarily maternal to the badger but it had never occurred to her that he would whip his servant/bodyguard. She grabbed another potato and stuffed it into the canvas sack as she continued to listen.

“’Sides, I won’t tell anybeast what you say.”

“H’And do ye get orful pay ‘n’ long ‘ours, s’well?” The otter’s voice had dropped a bit as well but his paw had continued searching the shelf.

The brown eyes flickered over to her and Selra wouldn’t have even noticed if she hadn’t turned that way to go after a stray bun. “All that.” He paused. “It’s awful isn’t it? And it’s lifelong!”

Her blood froze, not just at all the new realizations about their servants’ poor lifestyles but at the fact that Rori was doing this on purpose. She tchiiiped.

“Well, not necessarily but seein’ as it’s th’only way to take care o’ my family h’it does make it h’a never ending job. Especially since y’often die in the process.” The otter laughed mirthlessly.

She wasn’t sure what the badger was trying to do but it was getting annoying. She grabbed a few canteens, not completely sure of the contents. She took a hunk of cheese, sniffed and shrugged. Finally the otter seemed to come up with something for Slashclaw. Selra hoped it was good because they were going to eat it for the coyote.

“’Ere, it’s caramelized ‘oney h’over ‘ard sweet bread. ‘E better ‘njoy h’it, those take lotsa work.” He wrapped it efficiently in brown paper and handed it to Rori. “Thanks for talkin’ too, would ye mind coming down some other time? H’It might be nice t’talk without fear o’ whippin’.”

Rori smiled sadly as he took the sweet. “It might be hard to get away. Thank you.”

The otter nodded knowingly then turned back to his pot. “H’is there anythin’ else Ah kin ‘elp ye with? H’I mean, Ah’d rather not do stuff for them in the middle o’ the night, iffen ye know what Ah mean, but Ah don’t mind ‘elping ye.”

“I think that’s all.” He waved vigorously in her general direction. Selra stuck her tongue out at him, knowing he couldn’t see it, then took a last look around the pantry. That should be good. She slipped out and away. The badger followed and she gave him the cold shoulder. He didn’t seem to mind and his smile seemed a bit…knowing? Evil? She scowled and hurried her pawsteps. Soon they were at an intersection flooded with moonlight. The inhabitant of the palace glanced both ways then raced right, down some steps then turned a corner and waited for Rori. He arrived soon after and they continued to the courtyard.

Riplar didn’t seem to be there but a noise was coming from the corner. Selra made a face and headed impulsively to the corner to see what her brother had done this time. Rori stopped her once again as a soldier entered. Soon others came in, falling into ranks.

Selra broke her self-imposed silence to whisper curiously, “What’s happening? I didn’t know the army was going anywhere.”

“Slashclaw and Gro-your dad put together a new plan. I didn’t know they were leaving so soon though.”

The dim light enabled her to see his eyes narrow.

She interrupted whatever ensuing thought process was happening. “We’ll have to get Riplar and find another way out then.”

He nodded in agreement and she smiled derisively now that she was the one bossing him around…in a way. She turned back to the gathering soldiers. Now they were flooding in and she even saw a few slaves. She stared puzzled at them then realized that Rori had disappeared. She tchiiiped and ducked after him. They were in the gate room she realized after her eyes readjusted to the dark after the bright moonlight. She peered out the window to see her brother dart out an opposite building then skitter to a stop and rapidly change directions once he saw the soldiers. He managed to get into a shadow but his quick turnabout messed with the gravel and some of it hit a ferret’s legs. What had Riplar done?

The ferret turned around and spat at the rat behind him. “Worra ye thinkin’? Don’t kick rocks at me!”

The rat spat back. “Ye aren’t even worthy ‘nough to touch the rocks; wot makes ye think Ah’d kick ‘em at ye?”

“Ye wanna fight? Jist cross the line!” He drew a line in the dirt with the toe of his scuffed boot.

“Oh yeah.” The rat strode over, drawing her weapon. The ferret’s weapon was already permanently attached to his paw and he didn’t wait until both footpaws were over the line to attack. Soon a fight was raging as more soldiers were brought in and the leaders started noticing.

“C’mon!” Riplar’s voice was suddenly right next to her and she turned on him in a mix of emotions.

“It’s the perfect distraction, now let’s go.” He grabbed her arm and pulled as she realized the truth of his statement. Obviously, night times weren’t her strongest time. She kept up with the boys as they made their way to the wall.

“Did you get ropes or are you planning on jumping?” Selra crossed her arms.

Rori looked over the battlements. “Jumping,” and with that he swung himself over and was gone. All they could do was gape then rushed over simultaneously. The foxmaid quickly figured it out. There was a tree not too far from the wall which he had obviously landed in before dropping to the sand where the beach started. She turned to explain this to her brother but pushed her towards the wall indicating that she go. She rolled her eyes and complied. It was surprisingly fun and easy and she found some of her ire dissipate. She landed gently, brushed off some sand and rushed to the water.

This part of the plan she knew and it didn’t seem like it had had to be changed yet. Selra stowed the bag of food under a bench in the rowboat and started pushing it out. Riplar joined her and Rori came after loosening the mooring rope. Soon the boat was in the lake’s frigid water and they were in the boat.

It worked out so that the fox twins shared a bench and each had an oar while Rori took a pair by himself. With the first hit of an oar in the water they all winced and stared at each other. They had forgotten to muffle the oars. How could they go this far only to fail now?

“Just row.” Riplar gritted and they did. It was a bit tricky at first but soon they found a rhythm.

“Selra! Paddle harder!”

“I’m already paddling hard enough!”

“We need to turn! Quickly!”

Grunting, she strained and eventually they made it to the other side. Rori hopped out and beached the boat while Selra and Riplar rounded up the supplies. They were heading for the cover of the trees when Riplar stopped and turned.

“Rori, come with us.”

“He can’t, Rip, what about the boat?”

“With the army moving out there’ll be plenty of other boats anyway. You should come!”

The beast in question looked hesitantly at them.

“I've got lots of weapons!” Riplar enticed.

“What about Slashclaw?”

Selra’s tone was cold. “You said yourself that it wasn’t an easy life. You got whipped and had long hours and little pay. That shouldn’t be too hard to leave.”

Her brother gave her a weird look as Rori blushed. “Well…”



“If he wants to stay, fine.” Selra spun and continued trudging up to where the forest met the beach. Riplar gave Rori one last look and followed. Selra felt safer in the darkness of the trees and ignored the knowledge that she would feel safer with a big badger accompanying them. Soon they heard a splash of water.

Riplar sighed. He was about to speak when he was cut off by oncoming pawsteps. They rotated as one to see the striped mound catching up with them. They smiled and he smiled back. Then they all set off to face the world together however it might turn out.

Chapter 12
After winter had come early and ruined the harvests, it had receded a bit leaving balmy weather with a few chilly winds. Mossflower inhabitants raced to enjoy the reprise of early autumn. A few overly optimistic farmers even started planting again. Most others were more cautious…or realistic. Whichever it was, it was more appropriate since after a few weeks or so, winter set in fiercely. Beasts were driven into their homes for days at a time and all plants withered and died in record time. Needless to say, this was not ideal weather for traveling as Carma was quickly finding out.

Another wind blew and Carma staggered but did not bend to it. Having a large body mass helped her. She had definitely grown in the time that she had stayed with Nottenc in more ways than one. She sighed, wondering how the volewife was doing. She had grown quite attached to her, like a second mother and she regretted leaving her. But the pull to the west had been stronger and she knew that Nottenc and Mumzy would be safe at Redwall. By her calculations, they must have arrived there just before winter had returned. And now onto the west she went, following an inane pull which she secretly knew was tempered by the suspicion that that was where Rori was.

Rori…her mind was quite confused when it came to him. She couldn’t love him having just seen him, yet there had been that strange feeling. And then there was the creature with him. Oh well, she would (hopefully) eventually figure this all out. She heard a growl and groaned. She had obviously not thought this out well: She had barely more than the clothes on her back (which were thin and the wind went through). Therefore she had no way to defend herself and no food. Well, she did have her dirk but it needed to be sharpened.

She glanced around the area. She was in a snow-covered field bordered by some frosted trees. Around the trees lay a few fallen branches. Aha! That should work. She looked around once more then dashed over there, stopping once for the wind. Squatting down proved a bit difficult without toppling over into the snow but she managed and chose a tree limb. She dusted off some of the snow with her bare paw then swung it at a tree. It splintered and flew everywhere. Barely avoiding a piece of tree, she tried another one. This one withstood several blasts before she decided it was adequate.

Suddenly the black and white fur on the back of her neck stood up and she whirled, surprisingly gracefully, around. Her footpaws crunched rather silently into the snow while she tracked the noise that had startled her. She paused to listen not hearing anything, much less the sound, when she was pulled violently backwards. Her balance was off enough that whatever had pulled her back fell down too. The uneven ground forced the two bodies to roll around while half-wrestling. Her opponent was bigger than her and until recently, this wouldn’t have been too unusual. But since she had grown more she was towering over beasts more and more. Who could this be then?

Carma struggled in the brawny arms and managed to get rid of the paw over mouth. She thrashed and, managing to hit something tender, smiled. Finally, the slant and their energies gave out and they collapsed side by side, limbs tangled. She had hit her head hard through the snow and her vision swirled. A paw grabbed the front of her tunic and jerked her upwards, a fist at the ready. Everything swung around painfully and she gasped. Then gasped again.

“Rori?”

The paw’s owner, startled at the knowledge that Carma was a badger and she knew that familiar name, dropped her and her head resounded against the frozen ground again. Needless to say, this was not how she had imagined her first encounter with him (which she had done quite a lot). If it was him…still there was no time to consider any of that as blackness spun overwhelmingly in her vision and she knew no more.

Methusaleh’s and Matthias’ clear tones rang out over the Abbey’s frosted grounds. The snow outside the red walls muffled the sound, containing it. Some Abbeydwellers, therefore, weren’t even sure if the noise had reached their ears. They wandered around in the Great Hall and some out in the Grounds|The Lawns. Milling about, the murmur rose until it nearly blocked out the continuing rings. Finally, beasts with answers came to calm beasts down and settle things out. The crowds were assembled with reassuring words into the Great Hall where Abbess Fern gracefully ascended a table. To fully gain the mass’s attention, she had to resort to banging two pots together.

“Thank you.” She said when silence was gained. “My first words to you are ‘Don’t worry’. Or at least, those are what they would optimally be were it not for the well-organized horde heading for our Abbey’s gates as we speak.”

Chaos broke out again and took several minutes of hammering on the pots for quiet to be restored. In all frankness, the abbess was not surprised at the response and, while wondering if that was the right thing to say, coolly tried to calm them down. One faint-hearted haremaiden, Recorder Howlia’s sister, could not be pacified and had to be dragged to the Infirmary for a shot of relaxing tea.

“In a few minutes, we will initiate the rehearsed plan of action. Remember: Dibbuns and old ones to Dormitories. Healers stand by in the Infirmary. Warriors, gather weapons and take the walls. Any questions, come talk to me. This is not a drill, I repeat, this is not a drill.” The squirrel surveyed them for a minute. “I think that’s about it. You are dismissed. Go!”

Fern leapt off her makeshift platform and went to her chambers to get ready. Skipper Joncho followed her. “Yes, Skipper?”

“Y’said iffen anybeast ‘as questions t’come talk t’ye.”

“What is it?” She pulled her chainmail over her head.

“Well, Ah be wantin’ t’know all th’details. ‘Ow many beasts h’are we up against? ‘Ow well equipped are they? Wot kind o’battle does it look like?” When she turned to look at him, he shrugged sheepishly. “H’it’s just wot Ah be needin’ t’know iffen ye want this battle well executed.” He glanced at her. “’Twill it be a battle?”

She paused in fastening her belt around her chain mail. “They’ve already attacked us, so most likely, that is what it will come to. But,” she stuck the end of the belt back through a loop, “as always, we will start by trying to find out what’s happening and see if we can negotiate. Though I highly doubt it, seeing as they’re vermin.” Finishing with her belt, she checked herself over and grabbed her weapon. “How do I look?”

The skipper looked at her. Her armor was simple, seeing as there wasn’t much to go around, but it complemented her fur nicely while protecting all the vital areas. Her belt held a simple bag for her bolts and her polished wenge crossbow stood ready in her hand. Altogether, while ready for battle, the young maid managed to bring a simple flair to the outfit.

“Dashin’, ma’am.”

“Really?” She looked stunned and looked herself over again. “Oh well,” She straightened up and smiled at him, her momentary girlishness forgotten. “Let’s go. I’ll brief you on what I can on the way. I assume you’re ready?”

It was rhetorical but he answered nonetheless. “H’As always, ma’am, h’as always.”

“Haven’t I told you to drop the ma’am?” She grinned uncharacteristically back at him as they advanced towards the main door.

He smiled back, a rare sight lighting up his rugged features. “You might’ve…you might’n’ve. Ah kin’t keep track.” They carried on the slight banter to keep down their pre-battle jitters as they headed out to face Grovelum’s army.

They were pleased to find, that when properly motivated, Redwallers could quickly turn pandemonium into order. The Dibbuns and chaperones had been corralled, the healers set up and the warriors had grabbed their weapons and were now assimilating on the walltops. The leader pair had another short conference before continuing.

“Brief them on what you can. The army should be here soon and you can make your own assessments. I think we should keep it to the walls.”

“But, wiv all due respect, we should start on th’walls but those ‘o kin should den move out. The wall shooters kin cover ‘em ‘n’ we’ll ‘ave a double advantage.”

“While they have the advantage of more training and number.” The dry response was met with a look and she relented. “Ok, we have done a lot of training. But still, with all these counter-advantages, the battle might be close to equal which means long with lots of deaths. We want to avoid that.”

He nodded then patted her shoulder. “For such a young abbess, y’sure know wot yore doin’.”

A blush tinged her cheeks though it could be equally attributed to the cold air, another counter-advantage. Then they parted ways to address various parties.

Gathered near the wallsteps was another bunch of beasts bantering before battle.

“D’you think you could really kill somebeast?” Queried by Segalia, this was a question they had asked each other many times before, but this was the first time it felt more serious.

Wraltor, though, still believing in keeping their spirits up, answered in his normal fashion. “Wouldn’t ‘afta. Ah’d jist look all cool ‘n’ it’d frighten ‘em all off.”

She rolled her eyes with a bare smile and turned to Lijel. “What ‘bout you?” She prompted.

He froze. “H’I donno. ‘Pends on the situation.” This too was his normal answer and was typically followed by playful possibilities of various circumstances.

“’Ow ‘bout this?” the sardonic reply became more so as she continued. “Yer second home, which is peaceful by nature,” Wraltor rolled his eyes behind her back and Lijel snickered which did not help his case, “is attacked ‘thout warning by a bunch o’ vermin. Many ‘tacked ‘clude yore ‘loved ones’. Could you?!”

“Seg…” he protested.

“Answer me! Could you?”

“Whoa, whoa, Seg! Why’s this such a big deal all o’ sudden?” Wraltor came between them seeing a barely noticeable twinge in Lijel’s eyes.

She advanced on him now. “Why? Because we’re ‘bout t’go int’battle. We could die! Especially if yore not prepared t’kill in return!” She put her tannish paw in the middle of the bark over her tunic. “H’I should be fine because Ah’ll just go all Bloodwrathy ‘n’ kill ev’rybeast!” Her face mixed irritation and pride for a bit as she continued to rant. “But what ‘bout you guys? Ye’ve practiced sure! But iffen ye kin’t kill…”

If it was possible for dark-furred otters to go pale, then that’s what they were. As it was, they were peaked though they attempted to hide it by making various expressions including annoyance.

Wraltor returned to his cool persona side. “So,” he flipped his fur around his eyes and looked at her sideways, “iffen Ah’m ‘earing this correctly, yore concerned fer us.”

The warriormaid’s ire turned to flabbergastedness and embarrassment. “What? No! H’o’ course not! Well, maybe a bit, but yore my friends! H’It’s only logical!”

“What’s logical?”

She didn’t turn to face the newcomer. “Fear for friends before a fight. Which,” now she looked at the gray female, “’cludes you h’even though Ah ‘ardly see y’anymore.” Smiling wanly, she made to turn away when Ampanna’s paw stopped her.

“H’I’m sorry, Segalia, Ah really am. H’it’s jist…Ah got caught up in all the changes ‘n’ ye were always ‘angin’ out with them.” She gestured vaguely behind them to the two boys who were looking a bit out of their element.

Segalia looked surprised. “but ye know them. Wraltor, maybe not so much, but y’could’ve gotten to know ‘im!”

“Yeah,” she sighed,” but ‘specially when Ah got hurt, ye visited but h’it always felt like Ah was ‘truding into yore group.”

This time the ottermaid looked ashamed. “H’I’m sorry! H’I never wanted t’exclude ye!”

A wide smile crossed her face. “S’okay, jist so long as it doesn’t ‘appen ‘gain.” She crushed her into a hug which was returned just as tightly a second later. “H’I missed you.”

They broke apart and Segalia’s visage turned impish. “What ‘bout you, kin ye kill somebeast?”

Ampanna opened her mouth to respond but Lijel interrupted with a reproach. “Don’t start that again.”

She turned and smiled angelically at him, her blue eyes twinkling against his wary ones. “What?” He rolled his eyes and smile while the others started to laugh away their pre-battle jitters.



A bird flew into a tree, balancing precariously on the branch. He caught his balance and checked the position of the sun to see if it was time for his daily song. Seeing as it wasn’t, he stuck his beak in his wing to see if he could dislodge anything unwelcome. Suddenly, a snap of a branch caused his head to freeze mid-swoop. He slowly turned his dull-feathered head and came face to face with a weasel. His beady eyes stared, shocked for a second before he squawked and flapped frantically away.

The weasel, Ungbar, notched an arrow and was aiming when he was cuffed on the head. Only by extreme control did he not release the arrow. He growled in his throat and turned to face General Dir. The stoat was glaring at him.

“Wot?”

“First, y’were ‘bout t’waste an arrer. Second, ye ‘nounced our presence. Y’want that burd to betray us t’th’Abbey?”

“Shouldn’t Ah shoot ‘im down then?”

Dir scowled and stepped forward to look through a break in the trees. At the same time he lifted a paw, signaling the rest of the army to come to a halt. A crunch or two was heard as beasts stumbled into each other at the suddenness of the stop. The general’s frown deepened and a nearby rat noticed.

“Shuddup, y’fools!”

Suddenly he was flying through the air from the force of the backhand he had just received. He hit a tree and a crack was heard. The army was shocked into silence. Dir waited a moment then turned around to face all of them.

“We’re ‘bout t’reach Redwall. Iffen ye want th’misshin to go well, and y’not get killed, den Ah suggest y’shuddup like Ah ordered. Ah ‘ope yer ready. Questions?”

Nobeast moved. They just continued to stare at Dir and his unfortunate victim,

“Questions?” His voice had risen as much as it could without alerting others to their presence and the vermin understood the implications immediately. They came to attention, saluted and shouted, at the same volume as Dir’s, “No sir!”

He smiled, a tad maliciously, then did an about face and signaled forward march. The army complied. A scarred, tough looking rat, met the eyes of a superior. A blink of the eyes and slight nod of the head was all she needed. When she reached the prostrate body, she checked it for signs of life with all the efficiency of vermin. She nudged it, not gently, made noise, not so much as to alert the others, and finally placed her paws all over in search of a pulse, all while cursing, teasing and pleading. Closing her eyes, he roughened paws slowly slid into her lap. The ratmaid murmured the words of the death dirge, then stood, brushing fallen leaves and snow from her lower body. Some of the debris fell on the body of her friend. His nose twitched. Her head turned sharply and then drooped as she turned away and set off in the direction of the army. His eyes blinked rapidly after her, unable to summon up the power necessary to call her, doomed to die alone.

Dir halted the army at the edge of the woods bordering the Abbey and cursed. Maybe it was the bird or maybe some other careless incident had caused this. Whatever it was, Redwall was prepared. The walls were bustling with well-armed guards. The stoat made a quick decision then marched straight out onto the path. While shocked, the arm was trained to follow their leader’s orders and filed after him. As more and more vermin spilled out of Mossflower Wood, the hubbub on the battlements and the grounds rose. Dir grinned inwardly; his plan seemed to be working.

A streamdog managed to calm them down enough for a squirrel to speak. “Good day. Pray tell, what is your business here?”

Dir was surprised at the civility and tried to formulate his own response. “My good lady, my, aren’t you looking dirty today?” A few of the vermin wolf-whistled, but the woodlanders looked appalled. The stoat was genuinely surprised; it was considered quite a compliment to be told that in the vermin community as it meant you were not useless with a flirty touch.

“Let’s dispense with the pleasantries, shall we?” Her voice had grown cold and the stoat sighed. That was the last time he tried to be nice to a woodlander; besides, he had been sent to kill her.

“Now, I ask you again, why are you here?”

“T’take yer Abbey weder by forceful means or peaceful ones.” That was their purpose in all its basicness.

“Why?” This question was harder.

“So that wid multiple bases, King Grovelum, may he kill many souls, can rule all o’ Mossflower.”

“Then he is extra greedy and cannot be satisfied with merely one fortress and lots of land and beasts?”

It was hard to tell whether the statement was supposed to be a statement or a question but the general tried to answer nonetheless. “No, he has the power to rule more and wishes t’do so. ‘N’ he is a good leader and knows dat iffen we don’t fight for a while, it’s bad.” He shrugged as if trying to convey the rest of the sentence.

“So vermin really do have inborn instincts to kill?”

He figured her mind was probably on the troublesome ferret that had stayed with them many years before. “We ‘ave to.”

“I’ve ‘ad enough o’dis.” Ungbar started pulling back his bowstring and pre-nocked arrow.

“No! Dat will only give truth to der statement!”

“Who cares?” The weasel ignored his companion and aimed for a collection of streamdogs and a treejumper on the walltops. He aimed for a tall one and let go while the general and abbess continued their conversation. Another otter, almost as tall, stepped unknowingly into the path of the arrow. The archer shrugged, one woodlander dead was as good as another.

The abbess broke off in the middle of her sentence when the goose-fletched arrow secured itself in the otter’s neck. His companion didn’t realize what was happening and when stumbled upon, pushed back, knocking him off the wall towards the vermin. Everybeast, mainly woodlanders, looked stunned.

“And while we negotiate you simply kill defenseless creatures?!” The stoat general wanted to note to the squirrel that the otter wasn’t defenseless as he had been holding a spear but the continuing tirade stopped him.

“Reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeddddddddddwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaalllllllllllllllllllllllllllll!” She shouted, once she regained her breath from her rant against injustice, raising her black crossbow over her head and the battle commenced. Shooters automatically started shooting at the others and the group of the fallen’s companions pushed to get out to him. The well-known chaos of battle had started and Dir smiled, drawing his weapon. Finally, down to business.

Chapter 13
Grovelum sat composed at his desk in his throne room and looked around. After he made sure no one was watching and the doors were closed, he picked the book he was studying and threw it across the room. Normally, the fox king was not prone to acts of any great emotion and certainly not anger. At the moment, however, he felt justified. The book, that was supposed to be guiding him, didn’t seem to be helping him anymore. Slashclaw seemed to waver too much on the line between craftiness and insanity. And on top of the war, his children had disappeared in the middle of the night for what reason he knew not!

He sighed heavily and crossed the room to pick up the tattered manuscript. Slashclaw, while confused, was still convinced of Rori’s faithfulness and since he had disappeared too, he was sure they weren’t abandoning them. No, the coyote had said, they must be somehow helping the war effort. Yet something about their recent behavior bugged him and he wasn’t sure if his friend was correct. His wife was despondent, though not visibly, and had urged him to select at least a few soldiers to go search for them. But with the way the war was going, the king wasn’t sure if he could spare them.

He retraced his steps, his boots lightly clicking, and he allowed himself the rare pleasure of slumping in his chair. Putting his bright orange paws to his face, he muffled a groan. How could he be a good king if he couldn’t even control his children? How would he control all of Mossflower? How would he even finish this war? At just the right time, his self-confidence stepped in. It chided and cajoled, reminding him of his great feats and the happiness of most everybody around him. It told him to take one step at a time and that would have to be finishing the war. Everything else did not matter; he had to put aside his personal feelings and the feelings of those around him.

Standing up, he straightened his royal robes and strode to the door. “Guard!”

The guard standing outside the door opened it and asked, “Yes?”

“Has General Dir arrived yet?”

“No, sir.”

“Inform me the second he arrives.”

“Yes, your majesty.”

“And send Mister Slashclaw in, I wish to speak to him.”

“Yes, your highness.”

Grovelum hesitated then asked one more thing of the guard. “And tell the cook to send a special treat up to my wife.”

The guard smiled; it wasn’t necessarily a cruel or laughing smile. “Yes, my king.”

The king nodded sharply and clapped his paws. “Now, chop chop! Go on!”

Gently closing the door, the guard went to do as he had been bid. The king paced as he thought. Once Dir got back, he would know how the battle had gone which would tell him many things about how the war would go in general. He stared out of the window as he passed, then stopped. The world seemed to have turned white overnight and it was beautiful. Almost as beautiful as the sight of blood on it would be. He stared at the surrounding lake, barely seeing the shore on the other side. Suddenly a thought hit him.

He turned and quickly went to the door. Just as he was about to call to have it opened, it opened. The guard was back.

“Your majesty.” He saluted and bowed simultaneously. “The general has returned.”

“Why did you burst in without knocking?”

“I figured you would want to know immediately, your highness.”

“Yes, but knock next time. Did you do all else that I ordered of you?”

“Yes, my king.”

“Well then, I have another thing.” The guard waited patiently, slowly catching his breath from his rushed errands. “Do you know if the lake is completely frozen?”

The questioned hesitated. “I could have somebeast find out but I’m fairly certain it nearly is.”

A broad, slightly wicked smile spread over the king’s face. “Yes, have someone find out and send the general up here.” He turned back to his desk and his last words to the guard carried back over his shoulder as he walked. “We have many things to discuss.”

Wraltor lay sprawled on the ground outside the wall, breathing hard and bleeding profusely. There was no hope for him, the arrow having lodged itself in several vital places in the neck. He knew it and so did the otter bending over him.

"Why?" Lijel asked, struggling hard, his face contorting against tears.

"H’I don't reckon Ah know," said the dying otter, "but lemme tell ye som'in'. H’I only knew ye for a short time, but you were the best matey anybeast could h'ever 'ave. H’A fun brother and an awesome friend all rolled in ta one." He took another deep breath then shuddered and lay still.

Lijel stood up. The tears that had succeeded in coming streamed down and matted the brown fur. He turned to face Segalia, who had stood watching, silently crying, as all this had taken place, "H’I wasn't so sure about fightin’ and the war and if we should, but now, Ah know. They will die!"

Shouting this cry of vengeance to everybeast, he bowed his head and the sobs burst forth. Segalia came and awkwardly put an arm around the sobbing otter. "And if needed, Ah'll 'elp ye do it."

His copious sobs racked his whole body. Hesitating slightly, she pulled him into a hug. She ran her paw down his back murmuring soothing words, his fur clumping between her fingers. He sank to his knees pulling her down. She knelt, still comforting him. His cries started to quiet down some. This was followed by an awkward silence. Segalia released her arms.

Lijel hesitated then spoke. “Thanks, Segalia.” His voice nearly caught but he seemed a bit better. She simply nodded; nothing else needed to be said or done. They sat in the dirt outside of the Abbey where they had dashed as soon as the battle had started. Protecting the body, they had waited anxiously for him to regain consciousness. The battle had been short but damaging, other dead bodies littering the ground around them as well. Ampanna had had to go help despite her want to stay. The otters both looked over at their friend.

“We should give ‘im a proper otter’s burial.”

“’e deserves that and more.”

“Yes, but I’m afraid nothing can be done ‘til the end of the war.” Seeing his crushed look, she continued. “And then, we’ll give him the best sendoff ever.” Lijel nodded. He bent and put his arms under the limp body lifting it up. He closed the glazed unseeing eyes and staggering a bit, started moving towards the River Moss. Segalia rushed over to take some of the weight but he shook his head grimly. She stood respectfully as he passed then walked slowly after him. When they finally reached the river’s edge—after a harrowing near-drop of the body—they arranged it appropriately. Then they quickly dug a hole and buried Wraltor next to the river, home to otters and close to his other home: Redwall Abbey.

They stood. Lijel, drawing his sword, went to stand by Wraltor’s grave. He saluted with the sword. “Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyeeeeeeeeeeee! Euuuuuuuuuulllllaaaaaaliiiiiiiiiiiiaaaaaaaa! Reeeeeeeeeeedwaaaaaaaaallllll! Hooooooolt Weeeeaaspreaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrr!” He shouted and stabbed the ground next to the body. He knelt, driving it into the earth. Then he stood, gave the pommel one last pat and walked away.

The only sound filling the cold air was a brisk striking of stone and sword and a few accompanying annoyed grunts. Riplar readjusted his cloak about himself where he knelt in the snow trying to light the small pile of twigs he had compiled. He had heard that striking metal against rocks worked to create a fire but he was unsure of all the mechanics. Whatever he was doing didn’t seem to be it. He sighed and swung his sword at the small rock in his paw again. He missed and muffled a mild curse as he grabbed his paw.

Soon the sound of bickering filled the air. His sister and friend must be back from gathering more wood from the fire. The cold hadn’t done much to improve any of their moods especially with the absence of a warm fire. The fox breathed out a cloud of air and began attempting at sparks again as his companions entered the clearing.

“I just don’t understand why you tracked it in the first place!”

“First of all, ‘it’ is a she and I was making sure it wasn’t an enemy. Protecting you, your highness.” The title was soaked in sarcasm and Selra bridled.

“Well why did you have to drag her all the way back to the camp?”

The badger shifted uncomfortably under the weight slung over his shoulder and her accusation. “She’s not a bad guy and if she could die if she was knocked out in the snow for too long.”

Selra moved around their campsite and deposited an armload of wood ranging from small sticks to big limbs. “And how do you know she’s not a bad guy?”

“She’s a badger and-”

“And what? How does her being a badger mean anything? It could mean she’s even more likely to go into Bloodwrath and attack Rip and I when she wakes up?”

“Why would she do that?” He gently dumped the body of a medium-sized female badger on his bedspread from the previous night.

She threw up her paws. “I don’t know. Maybe she has a personal vendetta against foxes because they killed her family or something. Woodlanders have a tendency to attack ‘vermin’ on sight. Either way, there’s no way to know if she can be trusted.”

“She knew my name!”

Selra looked genuinely startled at this. “What?”

Rori sat wearily on a log. “She knew my name. I don’t know how or why but…”

“Okay, okay.” Riplar’s curiosity had been sufficiently piqued and he felt it his duty to join the conversation and perhaps dissuade another argument. “What in the world are you talking about? Who is she? What happened?”

His sister opened her muzzle to speak and then thought better of it and motioned for the badger to explain.

He shrugged. “I was going out in the woods, looking for firewood, and I heard someone tramping through the snow. So I decided to investigate. I couldn’t tell whether they were friend or foe so I tackled her…them. We wrestled for a while and I was about to knock her out just to be safe when she said my name. It was weird. I have no idea how she even knew but she sounded so surprised.”

Shaking his head bewildered, he stared at the as-yet nameless badger.

“What then?” Selra prompted, anxious to hear the full story.

“I’m not sure. She said my name and I suddenly realized that one, I was fighting another badger, two, I was fighting a girl and three, somehow she knew me! I just dropped her and she must have hit something that knocked her unconscious. So I decided to bring her back here so she wouldn’t freeze.”

“Though that doesn’t seem to be working,” she remarked slightly caustically as she glanced at the cold pile of tinder.

“Hey, it’s hard. I’m working on it, okay?”

“Real hard too.”

Riplar noticed that his paws had gone idle as he had listened to the story and shot back, “Well it’s not like you’re helping much!”

“I got wood!”

“So?”

Anything else he was going to say was cut off as Rori stopped them. “Stop it, both of you! We need to stick together through this…” he struggled in search of a word and Riplar stepped in.

“Escapade.”

“Yes.”

“Mindless, stupid escapade.”

“Uh…”

“I’m sorry! Okay? I’m sorry. I’m sorry I dragged you guys away from a place of war so we could try to figure stuff out. I’m sorry we did this in the middle of winter. I’m sorry that I’m so confused and cold and wet that I’m not in the best of moods but let me remind you: we’re all confused, cold and wet and you both agreed to come with me. Like he said, we’re all in this together so don’t go blaming me!”

Selra’s heartfelt defense of an apology became more defensive as her companions gave her weird looks. She dropped her head down, eyes landing on the badger. If somehow conditions worked out that she stayed with them, it might be nice to have another girl in the group. She felt a warm paw on her shoulder and her head jerked up.

It was her brother, looking slightly bashful. “I’m sorry too. Let’s try and start over, okay?” He stuck his other paw out for her to shake and relieved, she gripped it and shook.

“Okay.”

The grunt from the badger assured her that they were all once more in peaceful agreement.

“So, now what?” Perhaps it was because of her warlord heritage, but she felt more at ease while arguing or fighting though it got tiresome. She wasn’t sure what the next step was.

“Take stock I guess.”

“We have a fire that won’t start and some cold food. I think I got enough so we should be good for now but it wouldn’t hurt to get more.”

“What are we going to do about her?”

“Do you have any specific ideas?” The protective undertone in Rori’s voice made him raise his paws peaceably.

“I didn’t mean throw her out in the cold.” He winced slightly at the irony and continued, “I just meant are we going to try to wake her up or wait, are we going to feed her, ask her questions, what?”

He shrugged. “I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Just let her rest for now.”

Riplar nodded back and they sat in an awkward silence until he knelt back down to continue working on the fire. Selra came over and started making a bigger fire pit. “Sorry, some of the wood might be wet, snow and all.”

“Yeah,” he forcefully tapped the cutlass against the rock again. The continued tapping seemed to have an effect on the unconscious badger.

She groaned.

All three stopped what they were doing and glanced over. “What should we do?”

“Relax, Rori. Just keep tapping, Riplar and maybe she’ll wake up soon.”

“That’s a bit mean.”

“No meaner than jumping on someone’s bed or shining light in their eyes to wake them up.”

Riplar smiled innocently at his sister and she rolled her eyes.

As she went back to what she was doing, he examined his sword thoughtfully and said, “True. And it’s much better than bribing the kids of a visiting frog’s warlord to jump on their bed with you…after they had gone for a morning’s swim.”

“Hey, I only did that to you once. And it was only one kid.”

“It was still mean. And when it was what, below freezing?, and you stole my blankets.”

Selra was unable to work up any sympathy on this charge and burst out laughing instead. “And then you were running around the castle practically naked. It was hilarious!”

He glared at her and Rori as he joined in chuckling. They all turned as they heard another groan. The body moved and her eyes blinked. After a moment of nothing, they rushed over to surround her, searching for signs of consciousness.

She moved some more and it gave Rori the sense to remind them to all step back. “We’ll probably freak her out otherwise.”

They went back to their tasks, Rori’s which consisted of whittling down sticks for the fire and glancing anxiously over at his guest. Finally, she made to sit up and Rori was there to try to push her down.

She fought him. “What happened?”

“You hit your head hard. You should rest.”

“Yes, you seem real intent on letting me rest with your constant tapping and chatter.”

Great, Selra thought, another grump to add to the group. Riplar had the presence of mind to gather some snow in a rag for her to use on the bump on her head.

When it started to feel better, she sat up and looked around. Before her eyes had cleared all her sleepiness, she was apologizing for her curtness. “Sorry about that. Where am I?”

“Somewhere in the middle of Mossflower Woods.” Selra answered her.

Her eyes widened as she saw that the reply came from a fox and Selra stared determinedly back.

She forced a smile. “I think I might know you, Rori, but I haven’t met you two. I’m Carma, who are you?”

Riplar started forward but Selra cut in front with her paw outstretched. “Princess Selra, daughter of High King and Conqueror Grovelum the Malevolent, lord of the Inland Lake and Mossflower Woods. Nice to meet you, Carma.”

The title she had exaggerated and normally she disdained all use of it but she was trying to see how their visitor would react. Would she treat her with honor because she was royalty or attack because she was the daughter of a warlord?

Carma smiled, more genuinely this time, and gripped her proffered paw. “Nice to meet you, your majesty.”

Pleasantly surprised, she shook the large paw and stepped back to give way to her brother. Looking ill at ease, he stepped past and said, “Riplar, her brother.”

“Good to meet you too, your highness.” It was fairly evident that Carma’s mind was whirling trying to connect pieces together, but she would remain kind until facts told her otherwise.

“You can drop the titles.” Selra smiled genuinely back, more at ease. “So what are you doing in this neck of the woods?”

Before the female badger could answer, Rori burst into the conversation. “Yeah and how do you know my name? How do you know anything about me?”

“Uh, maybe we can talk somewhere private?”

“Anything you have to say can be said now.”

Selra’s paranoia flared up slightly but she struggled to think the best.

“It’s just hard to explain. I saw you, in the woods a while back. With your master. And I think I might’ve recognized you from somewhere.”

“You were spying on me?”

“No,” She said firmly, “I was wandering through the woods and hid when I heard you guys. Then I watched to see what was happening.”

He started to say something several times then stopped. As the silence got awkward, Riplar stepped in. “So do you want to stay with us for a while? At least until your head heals or something? We could probably use another paw around here.”

Carma glanced at Rori then nodded. “Yeah, I’d be happy to. What can I do to help?”

“Well, if your head’s alright for the moment, my doofus of a brother,” Selra aimed a slight kick at Riplar, “could use some help starting a fire before we all freeze.”

Riplar mumbled under his breath as Carma grinned cheerily. “Sure thing, just give me a second to get my tools from my sack.”

He looked down at the rock and sword in his paws then hid them behind his back as she got out proper flint. “Let’s see what I can do.”

Soon they were chatting away as old friends and even Rori joined in; the warmth of new friends helping to warm them as the fire started.

Chapter 14
“We need to make plans for a decisive last battle. So far the battles have been somewhat damaging on both sides but the losses were not great. We must put all out energies into this so we can win and be done with it.”

“And if you don’t win?” Slashclaw’s surprisingly sane question interrupted Grovelum.

The fox sighed. “Well, I suppose we would then cut our losses and move onto Salamandastron. It would be easier to capture the fire mountain with Redwall under our control, but the new machine should help.”

Tapping his cane, the coyote came up behind him. “Maybe it would be better if we did so now.”

He turned sharply about. “What do you mean?”

“Bad things happen to warlords who attack Redwall Abbey.”

“Are you saying that the children left because of the curse of attacking Redwall?”

He shrugged.

“That’s ridiculous.” Sighing, he continued. “But that does have something to do with why I’m not patiently waiting it out.”

“Haha, I thought so.”

The king ignored the accusing, albeit wild, stare with accompanying snorts and continued as if to himself, “Of course with the early onset of winter they might not be that well off and we could starve them out.” He stared into space, considering it, then shook himself. “As much as I’d love to own Redwall, I need to stop this war so that I can concentrate my efforts on finding the children.” He trailed his paw over the Warlord’s Guide on his desk as he passed, then sat stiffly in his throne.

“Maybe after they’re found? They can’t have gone far.”

Grovelum shook his head sadly at his optimistic friend and beckoned his trusted guard over. “Please ask Queen Oxos to come to me. I am in need of some…encouragement.”

The guard nodded and left as Slashclaw tapped his cane irritably. Finally he burst, “Look, have I questioned the way you handle your troops? Everybeast around you? The way you choose not to rule by power and controlled violence over them? I may not approve, but I haven’t said anything.”

“True…”

“Not that I don’t condone loyalty between a few beasts, obviously with me and Rori.”

He giggled and snorted but before he could say more the fox coolly interjected, “And that obviously didn’t serve you too well.”

The wild eyes turned hard as he asked, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Simply that you should practice as you preach and have bonds of true loyalty. Besides, some methods work better for some beasts than others,”

“All I was going to say was that maybe if you ruled them a little differently, they would win more battles for you.”

“Are you implying that if I gave my armies insults and wounds they’d be more likely to fighter harder than if I treated them well?”

He gestured wildly but calmly simultaneously as he said, “Sure.”

“When it’s much more likely that they would desert me?”

“Are you saying that you don’t approve of the way your wife handles her maids?”

“I’m fine with it but I just think she might lose more maids than she’ll gain.”

“Would you rather I didn’t let them ‘retire’?” The fighting friends turned to see the queen come in.

“No, I wouldn’t-” He was cut off as they both turned on him: “You’re too soft-” “If you would just-” “No pain, no gain-” “Your justness and patience and my innate cruelty and exacting of justice always balanced each other out-” “Rori’s loyal, but are your armies?” “This isn’t working anymore-” “You’re not manly enough-” “Only things I ever loved, taken from me-”

The insults flew fast and furious and his head spun trying to keep up. How could they be saying this? How much of it was true? Was he that incompetent?

Something tapped his shoulder and he whirled around, scattering papers everywhere. He met the deep eyes of his wife and swallowed hard. But they weren’t full of anger and accusation as they had been a minute before.

Confused and trying to regain his composure, he said weakly, “Yes?”

“Are you okay, sweetheart?”

Questions filling his head, he stared at her mutely.

“You need to rest. Come on.” She pulled at his arm and he got up, turning to spot Slashclaw.

“Where were we?”

“I believe we were discussing the children.”

“Ah, well, let’s meet later to work on battle plans.”

“Aye,” the coyote’s eyes gleamed and he added, “Make sure not to conk out next time.”

The red head nodded, filling with relief. “Sorry, just a bit of stress.” He let his wife take his paw and lead him away.

“I heard you needed encouragement.”

He shrugged. “I’m just conflicted over a few things.”

“I can help you, you know, I am the daughter and wife of warlords and am quite capable.”

Smiling at her as they went down the hall, he bent down and kissed her. “Yes, you are quite capable.”

She blushed and her lips curled up. “As are you; your machine is quite brilliant actually.”

Husband and wife smiled at each other, the world once more at peace as plans were made for the final battle.



He hated crying. He really did; he felt that it was a shameful unmanly thing to do. And after all he had been through, he certainly had to be a man. Still, she had cried too and he was worth crying over. Nevertheless he vowed never to cry again. At least over this.

And yet, every morning, Lijel used to wake up and go look for Wraltor so that they could go terrorize the kitchens together or fight or some other such thing. Now, he would wake up in the dormitories, head out and start looking for his friend when it would hit him with such a painful ache that he nearly felt like crying all over again. The routine had repeated this morning and he had crawled off to the library to bury himself in some book. It wasn’t working and he forced himself to reread the last sentence.

“H’I ‘ear h’it ‘elps iffen you read the book right-side h’up.”

Startled, the otter looked up to see Segalia. She had a tinge of sadness about her but he could tell she was trying to be nonchalant, bring things back the way they were. He glanced back at the tome he was reading and flipped it around. The words unblurred and he was annoyed that he had been so distracted that he hadn’t noticed.

“So, Ah was wonderin’.”

He sighed. “Yes?”

“They’re ‘avin’ a war council down in the Cavern ‘ole and Ah don’t think we’re h’invited but Ah wanted to see iffen you would sneak in wid me.”

He felt a flare of excitement at the idea but it quickly died as he realized his espionage partner was no longer available. He grumbled.

“C’mon, Lijel. It’ll be fun.” When he didn’t answer, she sighed heavily and flopped into the comfy chair next to his. “Well, do you ‘ave any better h’ideas?”

“D’you ‘ave nothing else t’do or somethin’?”

“Well Ampanna’s still asleep so Ah decided to look ‘round and Ah ‘eard ‘bout the meeting.”

“You could read a book.”

She glanced at the rows of books around them. “H’I’ve already read most o’them. C’mon, Ah’m tryin’ to get you out of yer depression!”

“H’I killed somebeast, Seg! ‘N mah best friend died! You don’t get h’over that quickly!”

She stared at him and was about to respond when they heard a violent shush from the librarian.

Quietly, she offered, “H’I have nightmares.”

When he barely grunted, she continued. “H’I know, h’it’s ‘ard. But ‘as long as ye keep ‘em in yore memory ‘n’ git past the pain each day, h’it’ll becum easier. Ye just ‘ave to keep livin’.”

Since he seemed to be listening to her, she added with a small smile, “Besides iffen we go to th’war council, we kin find more ‘bout yer revenge.”

He closed his book. “H’if Ah don’t come wid you, yore gonna bug me all day, aren’t ye?”

She grinned. “Yep.”

Pretending to sigh reluctantly, despite the light growing in his eyes, he stood. “Race ya.”

“Yore on.”

They dashed away to the cries of the librarian. “No running in the library! Put the book back where you found it! Such disgrace to a haven of peace and learning.”

Their cares seemed to blow away from them as they skidded around corners, racing, letting their limbs stretch, and feeling powerful and carefree. For the slightest split second, Segalia considered letting Lijel win so he would feel better. Even as her stubbornness rebelled, she glanced over at him and knew that a fair race would be the best thing. Laughing, she sped up. Her rudder accidentally hit him as she passed him and he sped up too with a little cry.

They took stairs two at a time, evenly matched. Slipping on all manners of things underpaw, they dodged beasts in the Great Hall as more and more Redwallers awakened. Shouting excuses between laughs, they made it through to a clearer passageway. This was the final sprint and their bursts of laughter came fewer as they concentrated. Their bodies started informing them of the wear their activities were having. Suddenly, Segalia’s arms snapped out and she skidded to a stop. Her paws caught Lijel’s arm and the doorway respectively.

“Wot?”

“We’re ‘ere.”

“Oh. But Ah got farther so Ah won.” He goaded her.

“No, Ah reached the doorway first. Meanin’ Ah won.”

“Yeah, but-”

“Sh! We need ta be quiet.”

They switched modes from bantering to stealth. Stifling their heavy breaths, they peeked in the doorway to spy the council meeting at the opposite end of the room. The hiding spots were few and far between. Luckily, most of the council members were facing away from them. They moved quickly and silently to hide behind a pair of pillars. Lijel peeked his head out and saw Silverfalcon Pikehawk sitting at one end of the table, boredly sharpening a knife.

“Why does ‘e git t’be ‘ere and not us? ‘E’s scarcely h’older than us!” He hissed at Segalia.

“Slightly more ‘xperienced.”

“So?”

She shrugged. She did agree with her companion to an extent. They deserved to be at the table too.

They dashed over to the entrance from the wine cellar. The words from the meeting were starting to become clearer but being just a bit closer would help. She peered around the corner. No close hiding spots.

“Where next?”

He leaned awkwardly over her so he could look. “Hm. That corner looks dark ‘nough.”

She followed his paw. “H’is h’it big ‘nough fer both of us?”

“H’I donno. Yer pale fur’ll prob’ly stan’ out.”

She punched his shoulder. Or tried to anyway. Because he was leaning over her, the closest thing she could punch was his sternum. So she did. The loud resulting thunk seemed echo around their small cavity and into the Cavern Hole. Lijel jerked back inside.

“Did they see ye?”

“H’I donno.”

“What’d Ah ‘it anyway?” She looked at her paw strangely.

He paused in answering as they both heard the sound of chatter stopping and a chair scraping back from the table.

“Go!”

“Where?”

“Wine cellar!”

With what seemed like a barricade of noise, the two managed to clumsily get down the ramp, through the short corridor and into the wine cellar where Korla was mixing a brew.

“Hi, you two.”

“Uh, ‘ey, Korla. Kin you be quiet?”

“What? Oh, d’you guys wanna try some o’my new Frozen Fruit Fizzle?”

“Just don’t say h’anything.” Segalia burst out as Lijel dragged her away behind some barrels, their hearts pounding. The Cellarhog apprentice watched them, then shrugged and got out a miniature ladle from her apron. She dipped it into the big bowl and sipped delicately. She swirled it around her mouth, swallowed, made a quizzical face then rushed over to a shelf of spices and fruit, nearly tripping over a stool.

Silverfalcon and Howlia entered the room. They looked back and forth and then approached the hogmaid. “Ye ‘aven’t seen h’anybeast cum past ‘ere ‘ave ye?”

“Hm? Oh, I didn’t notice youse were there! Cum try me new brew, Frozen Fruit Fizzle.” Grabbing a few bottles off the shelf, she came over to the two warriors.

“No, h’it’s okay.”

“C’mon, we kin try a drop, wot wot!” The hare dragged the reticent otter over. Beaming, Katya grabbed two mugs off a hook and after adding a drop or pinch from a few of the bottles, she dipped the mugs in and handed them, brimming, over.

“Oh, ‘n’ Ah ‘aven’t seen Lijel and Segalia iffen that’s ‘o yer looking fer.”

“Lijel and Seg? Why-”

“No, we don’t know ‘o we’re lookin’ for. Just some bally peeper lookin’ in on our meeting.” The boxing hare looked suspiciously at the hedgehog. “Do you know anything? Like that it was them?”

“Me?” She giggled nervously. “No, o’course not.”

“Then why’d you mention ‘em?”

“Hm? Oh, those two are always gettin’ into mischief. H’it’s so cute!”

Behind the barrels, the otters in question bridled. “Cute? ‘Ow in the world h’is that cute?”

“’N’ we’re not always gettin’ into mischief, either.”

Luckily their hissed remarks went unheard as Korla encouraged the two to drink of her new drink. The retired Taggerung took a deep gulp and froze halfway in swallowing. His face showed half horror half confused disgust.

“Silver? Is something wrong?”

He slowly swallowed and grinned weakly. “No, course not. By the way, wot’s h’in this?” He coughed.

“Oh lots of stuff. Mainly frozen possibly slightly fermented fruit from th’orchard wid a touch o’allspice, fizzly water, sugar, nutmeg-”

“Nutmeg? ‘Ow much did you put in?”

“Wot’s the big deal? Mine tasted excellent, wot wot. Kin I ‘ave some more?”

“Sure thing! H’I don’t know though, not too much. Why?”

“Cause Ah got a big gob o’ it.”

“Oh, I must’ve jist added h’it ‘n’ not mixed it ‘nough. H’I’m sorry.”

He nodded weakly and turned to Howlia. “C’mon. Iffen she ‘asn’t seen anything,” his red eyes took the Cellar in once more, “then we need t’get back to the meeting.” Handing his cup back, he turned and left.

“Kin I ‘ave the rest of this? H’it’s jolly good stuff. H’I’ll return the cup when Ah’m done.”

“Certainly!”

With that, she too left and the otters relaxed. Segalia felt something brushing her shoulder and looked up.

“Uh, Lijel?”

“Yes?”

“Yer arm.”

“What ‘bout it?”

“Kin ye move it?”

“Why?”

Blushing, the ottermaid scrambled for a proper reason. “Uh, never mind. Let’s go.”

She stood and brushed herself off as the dark otter looked at her and then his arm resting over where she was, leaning on a barrel of October Ale. He shrugged and followed suit as the two of them left the dark corner. “Thanks, Korla. That was a close ‘un.”

“Yeah. D’you wanna try some o’my drink ‘fore you go?”

They glanced at each other. “Sure, why not?”

Taking swigs of the sweet fizzy drink, the two chatted with Korla before resuming their mission. Segalia glanced at Lijel. One thing was for sure, there was never a shortage of excitement around there!



“So, what are we doing again?”

“We split up to look for supplies, scout the land etc.”

“Ah and why’d we split up?”

“What do mean? We split up so we could cover more ground.”

“Yes but…” Carma trailed off, hoping Rori, her present companion, would get her gist.

“Oh. You mean why you are with me rather than one of them.”

“Not that I have anything against you.” She hastened to add.

“No, no I can understand your feelings. Well, I think it boils down to this: As brother and sister, they’re fairly close and though they like you, they’re still wary of you. Therefore, they figure since I’m a badger-”

“I’d be nicer to you?”

“Actually I was going to say I could hold my own against you but that works too.”

Carma stared suspiciously at the male she was trying to figure out as they crunched through Mossflower Woods. “Are you challenging me?”

He looked her over thoughtfully. “Maybe. What’s your primary weapon?”

To his faint surprise, she shrugged. “I don’t know. What about you?”

“Axe,” came his prompt reply.

The formidable looking badger pair continued amiably through the forest until Carma asked, “So how did it happen?”

“What happen?” He asked glancing over himself to see what she could mean. “This scar?”

“No. How did the whole hanging out with fox cubs of a warlord and calling a crazy fox-like creature master happen?”

There was a moment of silence and the impetuous female was afraid she’d said something wrong.

Finally, Rori said “Maybe that’s why they still don’t completely trust you.”

Carma sputtered, unable to form a complete, offended, confused thought.

“If you don’t trust them, why should they trust you?” He mused as if to himself.

She finally found her voice. “I was just asking! It’s not something you see every day.”

“Fine. I suppose it isn’t.”

She rolled her eyes in a way that dictated “No, it isn’t, thanks for finally getting my point”. He ignored her and started swimming through his memory to find a starting place. “Master Slashclaw,” he made a point of using the title, “is good friends with their father King Grovelum.”

“But how did he become your master?”

“Do you want my whole life story?” He asked in a somewhat exasperated tone.

She thought for a second, tilting her head to the side, then nodded. “Sure, if it’ll clear things up.”

He stared somewhat bemused at her for a minute then shaking his head lightly, started his tale. “I was born on a windy night in the middle of the Spring of Happenings.”

“Why was it called that?”

“Because lots of stuff happened in it. And if you want to hear all that happened, you should please refrain from further interruptions.”

She nodded, trying to regain the maturity that Nottenc had praised her for not too long before.

“Since it was spring, a lot of the happenings were obviously births. There were a lot of births that year, which was good since the community had been thinned out a bit by a hard winter. My birth was one of the happenings, but what followed a few days afterward was more important.” He stared into the distance for a second, lost in vague memories, and Carma gently poked him.

“Hm? Oh, well after that we were attacked. Still recuperating after the winter, the community didn’t fare well.” He looked so despondent that Carma had to say something. And something had been bugging her for the last few minutes.

“But the community survived. They were badly wounded but they built from the ashes a fine place.”

“Why would you say that?

“Because…I think I know this community you’re talking about.”

“What?”

“It just sounds so familiar. It might be the community I used to live in.”

“Do I know you?”

The bizarre double-entendre made Carma laugh. “I don’t know. Actually…” Her happiness subsided and she looked away.

He regarded her curiously then asked, “Might I ask why you’re asking me all this?”

“Yes, you may.”

He sighed at her avoidance of the question and asked straight-out, “Why do you wanna know?”

“I’m just trying to figure a few things out.”

“Like?” Rori prodded.

“A prophecy, our histories, your history, stuff like that.”

“A prophecy?”

“It’s nothing.”

“In my experience, prophecies are never nothing.”

“And what has your experience with prophecies been?”

He waved the attempted change of subject away. “Extensive enough. Maybe I can help you figure it out.”

She conceded. “Just something about an uneven war, where I could be the deciding factor and not letting my brother’s death affect me.”

“Well, there’s a war going on. That could be the war mentioned.”

“Yeah, so what’s the whole war about? I don’t know much.”

“Well, first tell me what you can about your brother’s death.”

She frowned. “It’s not something I like to think about.”

“I know,” he put a gentle paw on her shoulder, “but to figure this out, you need to.”

Glancing down at the paw on her shoulder, she sighed. “He was wounded, possibly in the skirmish that you mentioned, and the wound became infected. We asked for help from the Redwall Abbey healers but for some reason, they couldn’t help. Then we asked for help from a fox healer. He seemed to be getting better when he suddenly disappeared. All we found was a trail of blood.”

He softly squeezed her broad shoulder with his still-broader paw and she smiled sadly at him. “And so we assumed he died. If only the Redwallers had helped us! He wasn’t even that old when the fight happened, just a few seasons. It was just strange.”

“Yeah, that sounds strange.” Not wanting to linger on painful subjects, Rori addressed the war. “The war is between Redwall Abbey and a fox warlord king. So maybe the prophecy meant that you might be unwilling to help Redwall after your brother’s death.”

“Probably. And-” she glanced up at him then looked away, almost blushing.

“And?”

“And you.”

“Me?” He looked genuinely startled and stopped in his tracks, letting his paw slip from her shoulder. “I know you mentioned my history but how do I work into this?”

“Rori, it’s hard to explain.”

“Well, I’ve got time.”

“Do we? Selra and Riplar said to meet back soon-”

“We still have an hour or so.”

Carma looked about for a way out of the awkward conversation that was bound to follow and, failing to find one, sat down heavily against a nearby tree.

“It’s several things I guess.”

He knelt in front of her, waiting.

“It would really help me explain this if I knew more about your history.”

“Like?”

“Like how Slashclaw became your master.”

“Fine, I’m not sure how but he basically kidnapped me at a young age and raised me.”

When she looked appalled, he added, “He really wasn’t that bad of a guardian. He treated me almost like his own son and never really hurt me.”

Still unconvinced about this, she switched subjects and asked, “So how did you figure out about all your history?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “Slashclaw let me go back to the community. I found it almost completely abandoned except for a crazy old badger. Of course I’m used to crazy beasts so I just asked her a few questions and she told me. I had no reason to stay so I went back to Slashclaw.”

“Captured at a young age…” She mused. “Do you have any scars?”

“Yeah,” he traced the scar on his arm, “you don’t think I could be your brother, do you?” It was a very interesting thought.

“I don’t know.” She took a deep breath. “But there’s something about you. You seem vaguely familiar and I think the prophecy might have something to do with you besides my brother’s death.”

“What?”

“Just that because I’m…intrigued by you and interested to find out more, I might be willing to ally with you and therefore Slashclaw and Grovelum against Redwall.”

“Complicated balance.”

She nodded.

“You’d really do all that just because you’re interested in me?”

Her cheeks changed colors underneath her fur. “Not interested in you, just to find out more.”

He gave her a dubious look and she refused to meet his eyes.

After an awkward silence, Carma stood. “But it might help if, while we continue scavenging, you tell me more about the war so I don’t make any rash decisions.”

He nodded and the two continued on the way, talking more than scavenging. That night, at the fire, the two fox cubs closely observed them. The two badgers looked thoughtful and would look at the other when they thought nobeast was looking. What had happened on their walk? And how would affect everybeast else?

Chapter 15
Beautiful. That was one adjective but it could scarcely begin to describe all of the extraordinary abilities she possessed. Big described her height and broadness. Awe-inspiring definitely worked; he was awestruck every time he looked at her. Her smooth dark golden limbs possessed such strength.

General Dir stood at parade rest as he gazed at the destructive demon in front of him. Truly, she had been formed by the best, only the best for her. The strongest wood, teak, had been combined with the supple flexibility of yew to create the machine in front of the stoat.

The forest of wood that had been carefully cultivated over the years along with the farms had proved perfect for her creation. The trees in Mossflower Wood would certainly have been adequate but the half-day trip across the Inland Sea took too long to continuously ferry soldiers across for the construction. Plus, the risk of detection had been too great for them to chance it. With the lake frozen over however, she could be constructed secretly, quickly and with more skill before being wheeled over and set to her task.

Looking up, a white puff of air plumed from the general’s muzzle. She stood at least twice as tall as him if not thrice and he was no puny beast. It had taken a while but the soldiers of Grovelum’s army had finally finished it. Her, she was too gorgeous to be considered anything but female. General Dir couldn’t wait to see her in action. He took a few steps forward and caressed her arm. A pale sack at the end that was to be used for holding the boulders was all that remained of Ungbar. Sometimes sacrifices had to be made and that weasel had been far too impulsively independent.

He took one more long look at his precious then turned. The sooner he reported her completion to the king, the sooner the army could move out. After a few days, maybe a week, they would arrive at the Abbey and destroy it. He pressed a paw to his amputated fingers and grinned maliciously; he would have his revenge.



Maben was bored. With the war going on, the Dibbuns had been barricaded in the dormitories by the grownups. They had soon worn out the many games piled around the room as well as their imaginations. Now, unable to even jump on the beds after their latest scolding, they just lazed about, bored.

The badger babe sighed as he peered out the window. Even if there wasn’t the constant threat of attack, they wouldn’t have been allowed to play outside due to the rain.

Also, if they had been in normal times, Maben and his companions would soon be moved up to the older dormitories, having grown out of Dibbunhood. The fact that this was ignored, only served to intensify the restless rebellion roiling within him.

“Hm, dat’s intwestin’.” Having nothing else to do, the self-appointed leader turned to the mole whose nose was buried in a book. Though oft-scorned for his scholarly nature, the information he provided was sometimes useful.

“Wot is it?”

“Dis, come wukk.”

Sighing again, he slid off the window seat and crawled onto the bed next to the mole. “Where?”

He followed the digging claw to a picture of Dibbuns. They appeared to be singing. “D’you want’us t’sing?”

“No.” He said in a somewhat condescending tone. “Thurr be DAB.”

“DAB?”

“Dibbuns Argyiuns’ Bedtoime.”

“Wot’d dey do?”

Turning back a page, he read aloud, “Dey cap’ured ee Kitchen ‘n’ got oit o’bedtoime.”

“Cool.” The badger looked up at the ceiling and stroked his chin thoughtfully as he’d seen some elders do.

“Maben? Wotcha doin’?” Across the room, the squirrel turned from kicking her footpaws on the wall.

“Hush, me be thinkin’.” The Dibbuns in the room all turned to look at him and he puffed out his chest while keeping up his charade. He knew he had to think up a scheme quickly before he lost their interest. The funny spiky beasts were long gone so they couldn’t be bothered. After the trouble he got in after messing with the food last time, the Kitchens and Cellar were probably off limits as well. The Great Hall would probably full of beasts as would the Infirmary. That pretty much left the upper regions of the Abbey.

A broad smile spread over the child’s face and the other young beasts waited with bated breath. “H’I know wot we be gonna do.”

Knowing his inspiration, the molebabe couldn’t help but warn, “Dey gots in gurt trubul! Abbot’s Report!”

Maben waved him off. “H’it’s not dat bad. First, we gotta sneak out. Den, follow me.” Trusting their leader and willing to do almost anything to get out of the dormitories, the rest of the Dibbuns obliged. The mole groaned from his bed after them, worry etched on his face. Eventually though, curiosity overcame fear and he padded after them.

A mouse peeked his head out of the door, after looking through the eyehole, and glanced about. “Aw cwear!”

Tip-toeing dramatically, the re-formed DAB crept out of their imprisonment one by one. Maben grinned as he shut the door behind him. There would be mischief tonight!

He scurried off down the hall and the eager Dibbuns followed him. Peering around the corner, he frowned. “Dere be somebeast dere.”

Katya, the hogmaid, came beside him. “H’I’ll take care’it.”

Without waiting for an answer, she trotted down the hall to Goodwife Burna. “Goodwife Burna?”

The molewife turned obediently around. “Yesh? Woi’re ye oit o’the room?”

“H’I need ‘elp.”

The caring devotion deeply ingrained in the infirmary keeper came out. “Wot be ee problem?”

Positioning herself opposite the rest of her group, Katya held her arm. “H’I was pwayin’ in the domitowy ‘n’ Ah fell on me arm. H’it feels weird.”

Burna took the allegedly injured arm in her digging claws. Katya jerked her head to indicate to the rest of the Dibbuns that they should go past while she kept her occupied. Maben waved the others on and they complied.

“Does ee ‘urt thurr?” They heard the mole ask as they filed by. The hedgehog kept up the charade as the Dibbuns hurried past. Soon nearly all of them were in the clear. All of a sudden, a mousebabe’s footpaws slipped on the tile floor. He fell noisily then froze along with the others, conscious of the terrible thing he had just done.

Goodwife Burna’s ears slowly perked up and she started to turn her head.

“No! Mama Burna!” Katya cried, knowing how much the mole liked the moniker.

“Burr aye?” The soft caring eyes turned back to the “invalid” and she felt a small pang of guilt for tricking her like this.

“H’it’s startin’ t’urt a lot. Kin we go t’th’infirmary?”

“H’it’d be moi deloight. Cum ‘long.” The mousebabe scrabbled across the rest of the way on all fours and the last Dibbuns raced past. As the two respective groups turned the corners, Katya motioned to Maben that she’d meet up with them later. He nodded and she was out of sight.

The badger breathed out and thumped his head on the wall behind him.

“Dat was close.” A Dibbun murmured and the others agreed.

“Don’t mess up ‘gain.” Maben sternly told the mouse who meekly nodded. “Let’s wait ‘nother secon’ just in case.”

Nodding, the group waited in mostly silence. Soon after, Maben nodded. “Let’s move.”

They had made it down two more short halls when they heard something that made their blood freeze.

“’Uys! ‘Aid’up!” It was Mumzy, the new Dibbun who was much too young to be a part of any of their games but determined to be, nonetheless.

“Oh no,” groaned the squirrelmaid.

“Run,” Maben commanded as her toddling pawsteps came closer and they took off. They careened around another corner only to run right into Sister Paldra. “What are you doing out of the dormitories?”

“Uh…”

“Maben, what is the meaning of this?”

“H’it’s our Abbey too. We kin go where we wike.”

The gentle mouse rolled her eyes. “We’re just trying to keep you guys safe. Now, go back.”

“Sister, wook! Dere’s something out the window!”

“I’m not going to fall for that, Maben.”

“But dere’s actually something dere!”

“Weawwy!” Another Dibbun chimed in.

Her eyes quickly flicked over and back. “No, there’s-wait a second.” She stepped over to the window and looked down. “Oh my. I need to go tell the Council.” She scurried off and yelled back, “Don’t get into mischief!”

The Dibbuns gave scarcely another thought to what was outside. “C’mon, ‘urry up!”

DAB rushed off and up, mischief aplenty.



“It’s cold out here.”

“I hear that’s what happens in the middle of winter.”

“It’s not the middle of winter; it’s nearly spring.”

Shivering, the black fox laughed. “You keep telling yourself that, Sel.”

She whirled on him, snow spinning up from her footpaws. “Don’t call me that!”

Enjoying the chance to tease his sister, Riplar grinned at her. Puzzled, Carma asked from the other side of the campsite, “Why not?”

The princess deflated and kicked at the snow. “I don’t like nicknames; besides it means salt in some other language.”

“What d’you know? Selra paid attention to her tutors.”

The next kick was aimed at her brother and managed to sweep his footpaws out from under him. He landed silently and shuddered. “It is cold out here, painfully so.”

“See?” Selra made her point and went back to warming herself up.

“Can’t we make a fire, Carma?”

Though she looked pityingly at the skinny foxes, she had to stay firm. “No. We don’t have any wood, we’re nearly out of firestarter and it would give away our position.”

She looked at Riplar who was brushing wet snow off his clothes. “We really ought to get you guys to shelter though.”

Selra moved to a log, huddled up and grabbed her footpaws in her paws to warm them. “How long does that bumbling oaf take?”

Carma felt inclined to rise to her friend’s defense but she knew that it was mainly the cold speaking. “I don’t know. Hopefully he’ll be back soon.”

Her words spoke truth as less than a minute later, Rori lumbered into the campsite. He stamped over to the pile of sticks then stopped as he realized they weren’t lit. He sighed and seated himself on a log next to Carma. Luckily her awkward glance went unnoticed as he was accosted by questions.

“So, did you find anything?”

“Like shelter? Or fire?”

“Warmth of any sort?”

He chuckled a bit. “Yes, actually, I did.” Now it was his turn to glance awkwardly at Carma before sighing.

“Enough with the awkward looks already!” Selra burst, ignoring the extra dishing out of awkward looks all around. “Seriously, that’s all you do nowadays! Awkward look, look away, stare, look away every single day!” She threw her paws in the air and Riplar laughed at her drama.

“Anyway, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” Selra crossed her arms and muttered something along the lines of being cold, “I did find something. Or someplace.” It took a great will not to glance at Carma again since this place did seem to involve her.

“Well?” This time it was Riplar’s turn to be impatient as he was freezing too. No reason to procrastinate, Rori reasoned. “Redwall Abbey is a few miles that way.” He pointed off to the side.

“Redwall Abbey? Isn’t that the place Dad’s attacking?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

And the place inexorably involved the fox cubs, he’d forgotten. Carma bit her lip at his side. Well, since it was going to be awkward for nearly everybeast involved, maybe they shouldn’t.

“I’m sure I can find somewhere else if needed.”

Selra hesitated then shook her head. “No, it’s close and I’m sure it has adequate shelter. They needn’t know who we are.”

Riplar looked at his shaking sister. “We need to get to shelter soon; we’re not prepared for this weather.”

Still unsure, Rori glanced at Carma. She nodded mutely and Selra rolled her eyes at the exchange.

“Alright then. Let’s go.” They eagerly grabbed their sacks and waited at the edge of the clearing.

“Uh, guys? It’s that way?”

“Right.” Riplar said as he and his sister changed directions.

They trekked along and while the exercise warmed the siblings, the snow and cold continued to surround them canceling out the warmth. Carma was grateful for her mass but hoped for their sake that they would get to the Abbey soon.

And soon they did. Despite the deep wet powdery snow and the distance, soon the red walls and building rose above the trees. Carma wanted to stop and gawk in amazement but she was tugged relentlessly on. Only when they were at the edge of the Woods did they stop.

Catching a glimpse of armed woodlanders guarding the walls, Selra stated, “Suddenly I’m starting to think this isn’t such a great idea.”

Riplar was inclined to agree with her, but, “What other choice do we have? Freeze to death?”

He started walking out but was pulled back. “You can’t just go walking out there. They’ll shoot you!”

“No, they won’t.”

Selra stared at Carma. “And why wouldn’t they? We’re the apprentices of the beasts attacking them.”

“Besides the fact they’ve never seen your father and might not know he’s a fox, those guys aren’t about to shoot anybeast. They’re asleep.”

Looking over, they found what she said to be true.

“Okay then.” The party set out across the snow to the front gate. They were trying to figure out what exactly they might say to whoever who greeted them, each beast dealing with their own feelings of uncertainty. All of a sudden, Selra sunk beneath the snow. Or partly under anyway; she moved her arms enough as she fell that her head stayed above until her footpaws landed on something. It was a good thing she was not counting on her companions to save her for they had all frozen when she had sunk.

She floundered a bit. “Little help please?”

This startled them enough into grasping her arms and dragging her forcefully out of the snow-filled ditch. She huddled in the snow, panting and shivering, her clothes wet. It was about this time that a bunch of noise started to come from the Abbey.

“Are you okay?”

“What’s happening?”

“Let’s get to the gate.”

“Watch your step!”

The freezing party of four stumbled over to the front gate as Redwallers filled up the battlements to the sound of ringing bells.

A mouse accompanying a squirrel pointed at them. “There, Fern, I mean Abbess Fern, there’s the beasts I told you about.”

The young-looking Abbess studied them with critical eyes. “I see. Where’s Joncho?”

A buff scarred otter came up to her from her other side. “Here ma’am. What seems to be the problem?”

Thinking they had been ignored long enough, Riplar called up, “The problem is that we are without shelter, snow-soaked and freezing. We request rooming for a night so that we can recover before moving on.”

The interruption of a request momentarily stunned the Redwallers into silence. Soon the murmurings began. Feeling more than hearing the suspicions and accusations, Selra frowned. In the best of times she did not react well to such bias. But when she was freezing, her cold, frozen tunic sticking to her, her skin raw from falling and the wind whipping painfully at her from all side, she could in no way be counted on to be polite. “What’s their problem?” She muttered.

Seeing the warning signs, Riplar cautioned her, “We surprised them. Just let them talk it over.”

Folding her arms, she waited.

Finally, after another short discussion atop the battlements, the squirrel spoke. “As, uh, happy as we would be to offer assistance, we’re under a bit of duress ourselves. Are you sure there’s no other place you can stay?”

“Why would we be asking somebeast who is likely to kill us on first sight otherwise?” This was, of course, Selra who had tried to formulate it as nicely as possible. Despite this, Riplar still bit his lip as the woodlanders looked taken aback. Two otters and a squirrel regarded them with interest from the far side of the wall despite their armed state.

Eventually the leader-looking pair seemed to take her answer as a simple yes and move on. “Are you armed?”

“What do you think? There’s a war-” Selra was cut off by an elbow to the ribs.

“As my sister was trying to say, we thought it safer to.”

The Abbess looked none too happy about this and her eyes drifted over the as-yet silent badger while she thought. “We might have a place for one of you badgers if you choose to help us in our plight. I’m sure you’re aware of the war?”

“Didn’t I just say so?” Selra hissed irritably at the others.

“And she does realize that we’re smaller in stature so we’d fit easier, right?” Riplar said then added, “No offense to you two of course.”

“None taken,” Carma assured him.

Rori addressed the Abbey dwellers. “Yes, we’ve heard of the war between you and King Grovelum. My friends are becoming excellent fighters too and I’m sure they’d aid your cause just as much as we would.”

The battle between wanting new fighters and not wanting “vermin” was plain on the Abbess’ face. She stepped back to confer with the otter and mouse.

“I should’ve known that they wouldn’t let us in.” Selra muttered.

“You never know, they still might.” Carma encouraged but the foxmaid simply snorted.

“What are we going to do if they don’t let us in?” Riplar asked Rori.

“Ask for more supplies and then be on our way I suppose.”

“Why?” Selra burst out angrily. It was aimed at her friends but echoed up to the wall. “Just because I’m a stinkin’ fox who may or may not be related to a warlord doesn’t mean there’s any reason to deny my basic needs!”

“You must understand what a precarious situation we’re in.” The cool voice of the Abbes cut through her tirade and while she flinched, she continued to stare stubbornly up. “In the middle of a war, mistrust is natural especially if they are related in any way to the attacker.”

Though the validity of the point did not escape Selra, one point seemed a bit unfair. “You didn’t suspect Carma and Rori despite the fact they’re traveling with us.”

“Well, the relation thing-”

“Oh that’s right. He’s a woodlander.” At this point, Riplar had given up on keeping his sister quiet for several reasons: he didn’t think it would work, he thought she might effective and last but certainly not least, he agreed with her. “Well then, I’ll have you know, he’s just as affiliated with “vermin” as we are. He’s the-” Rori’s paw caught her mouth, pulling her back and muffling the rest of her statement.

“Why does it matter?” Carma asked him. “Aren’t you all removed from them?”

Rori shrugged, not releasing the foxmaid who was surprisingly not fighting very hard.

Riplar glanced at his draining sister. “If you won’t let us stay, can we at least get some food and other supplies before we go?”

“We’re in the middle of a war-”

“Which you mentioned,” Rori muttered.

“And not that well to do ourselves.” The mouse hurriedly whispered in the feathered ear of the Abbess who quickly corrected her statement. “We shall certainly be fine through the winter but it would be a mite difficult to stretch it over supplies for four more beasts.”

Selra’s suspicious eyes smoldered over Rori’s relaxed but not removed paw. “Just a blanket? A fire-starter? A change of clothes? A bowl of hot soup? My sister got covered in snow,” Selra’s teeth were chattering audibly by now, “and she could use a little recovery.”

The small orange and gray paw pushed away the large striped one. “My friends-s-s could use the aid-d as well.” As much as she could really use something warm right then, like Rori’s body heat, she didn’t want to be treated as an invalid. And she would feel bad if she got food and her friends didn’t.

The abbess bit her lip and seemed for a second like a kind lady who wanted to but couldn’t help. “Well, I’m not sure…”

Riplar snapped. If they hadn’t felt strongly themselves, it would have been amusing. “If you can’t put aside your stupid prejudices just to see and help a group of beasts in need, then we’ll leave! We’re hungry, cold and wet but we can make do on our own. And if you ever need our help, like in a war, we might just treat you like you treated us.” With that, he turned and marched away.

Her heart warming to her brother, Selra followed as did Rori. “We could use-” came the feeble call which was soon interrupted by the badger’s blazing eyes.

“If you think, for even a second, that I would help you after you turned away me, my friends, my family, then you are dead wrong.” He turned to Carma. “Coming?” He saw the look in her eyes and nodded. “Choose well.”

Carma was torn. This was the ultimate decision that her prophecy led up to, she was certain. But really, was the choice so hard? There was Rori and the fox siblings, her friends, not super close but pretty good. But there had been a time when they had been more pro-Redwall which had warmed her to the Abbey. Then again, they had treated them so unfairly. But they were in a harsh, early winter as well as a war. She could tell they weren’t really prepared for it and had a feeling she and her friends could make a difference. But what about poor Selra? From her medical knowledge, she knew that the fox could get hypothermia and/or pneumonia within the hour. Carma had just started turning away when she caught a glance of Redwall’s newest residents.

“’I Ahma!” Mumzy waving on her mom’s shoulders barely peeked over the battlements.

The feeling her chest could only be her heart ripping in two, hoping the body would follow. Maybe she could bargain with the Abbey leaders. She would have to be quick; the crowd was dispersing, the excitement over.

“Abbess! Can I speak to you please?”

Despite the distance, the badgermaid could see the conflicting thoughts rushing through the leader’s head. She flashed a sudden smile while grabbing the burly otter. “Certainly.”

“Away from the crowd, if you would.” The Redwallers groaned but the squirrel soon complied.

Carma shivered while she waited, looking back to see her friends moving further away. She would need to hurry.

A creak and a crunch informed her that the leaders had made their way down and through the gate. “I’m Abbess Fern and this is Skipper Joncho.”

“I’m Carma.” Her paw extended automatically and the Abbess accepted it after a second.

“So, what did you wish to talk to me about?”

“I was hoping we could come to a compromise.” She watched the cautious squirrel for a second before launching into her idea. “You are in need of fighters. While I’m sure you have plenty of warriors in your Abbey, you could use a few more. The fact that Riplar and Selra are foxes merely makes them greater assets: they might give you a valuable other point of view. With our help, you could change the course of the war.”

“And what do you want out of all this?”

“We just need food, shelter, nothing much.”

“What about you?”

The question caught her a bit off guard. “Well the same, really.”

Abbess Fern looked a lot sharper than she had earlier. “No, I’m pretty sure there’s something else. You seemed a bit distant during the exchange earlier and didn’t follow your friends. What is it?”

“I have friends in the Abbey and am trying to fulfill a prophecy as well as get help for my friends.” Carma wondered if she should have shared that much.

“Friends in the Abbey? A prophecy? What kind of prophecy?”

“It’s nothing and there’s no way you can know anything about it if you don’t try and come to an agreement with me.”

“How do we know you’re not up to something?” This was the otter, Joncho speaking.

Carma smirked though her heart was beating nervously. “You don’t, you’re just going to have to trust me.”

Instead of making them more suspicious, it seemed to make the Skipper more at ease. He nodded and put a paw on the Abbess’s shoulder. She glanced back at him and their eyes seemed to have a conversation.

Her eyes were unreadable when she turned back to the badgermaid. “Call back your friends.” As an extra precaution against hope, she added, “We’ll talk.”

A commotion seemed to be happening on the walltop and within the Abbey grounds. Words such as ‘Dibbuns’ and ‘dab’ rang out among the hubbub. As the squirrel hurried to deal with it, she shouted back again, “We’ll talk.”

Uncertain, Carma took a few steps back as she looked the Abbey then turn and ran for her friends. A talk was a step in the right direction.

Update List
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Polls
What do you think of the Abbess? Mary Sue! Super strict Confusing Complex A good Abbess Serious moodswing issues I like her!

What do you think of Carma? Mary Sue! Complex Kind and not powerful She has issues A good potential Badger Lady I like her!

What do you think of the whole story so far? Interesting Good writing Good writing, but no plot No plot and not very interesting It stinks! I like it!

What do you think is going to happen between Rori and Carma? They're going to fall in love, get married, have kids and become the Badger family at Salamandastron Do the same as in number one but reside at Redwall Do the same as in number one but go into hermitude or live in Mossflower Woods They're going to find out that they're cousins and become great friends One of them is going to die saving the other They're never going to see each other again I don't know but it's going to be important I have absolutely no idea

What do you want to see more of in future updates? The relationships Battles! Things you hinted about The good/bad dilemma Deaths! Combinations of the above I don’t care I don’t know; you’ve been doing well so far! Something with flying fish Specify in the comments if you wish